Victim 102
by WriterandDaydreamer4218
Summary: Alternate ending for AOU. Pietro wakes up a year after the battle of Sokovia only to learn that Wanda was killed in the fight. Meanwhile, Wanda finds herself in a foreign country with amnesia, only able to remember one name: Pietro. As the siblings struggle to reunite, a darker plot begins to surface-one that will question whether or not their reunion will ever be possible.
1. Awakening

**Welcome to my full length Avengers story! School is officially out for the summer and I have plenty of time to write (and fangirl) :)**

 **This story is set in an alternate universe from my first story Twelve Days. It is not necessary to read Twelve Days first.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.**

 **Enjoy!**

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

Every part of Pietro Maximoff's body hurt. His eyes felt like lead as he forced them open, wiping sleep from their corners. "Where…am I?" By all rights and accounts, he should be dead. He'd intercepted a series of bullets meant for one of his fellow Avengers, Clint Barton. No one could survive something like that.

And yet he was decidedly not dead.

A nurse in clean blue scrubs seemed to materialize by his side with a smile and a clipboard. "Pietro Maximoff?"

He nodded slowly. "I…think so. What happened? Where am I?"

"Dr. Helen Cho's lab in Seoul. We've been using the cradle in an experimental procedure, to see if we can regrow some of the tissue your body lost when those bullets tore through them. And I'm happy to report that the experiment was a success. It will take time, but you'll make a full recovery."

"What happened to agent Barton? Did we defeat Ultron?"

"Yes. Barton is alive and Ultron perished in Sokovia. The Avengers saved the world-yet again. And you were a part of it. You're a superhero, Pietro. As a matter of fact, a couple members of the team made the journey here to see you-including agent Barton. Shall I send him in?"

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble. Where's my sister? I want to talk to her."

The nurse's smile seemed to fade a few notches. "I'll get agent Barton." She was gone before Pietro could question her further.

A few minutes later, Clint came in. He seemed a little wearier and a little warier, but other than that he appeared to be unharmed. "Hey kid. How're you doing?"

"My chest hurts so much I can barely breathe. I have no idea what happened to me or where my sister is. My entire body feels sore. Other than that, I'm doing great. How about yourself?"

Clint managed a smile, although his eyes were troubled. "I'm doing pretty well. I've been trying to spend more time with my family, in between other missions of course. My youngest son, Nathaniel, is just about to turn a year old. I want to be there to celebrate the occasion."

"Wait-you have three kids?" Pietro's brain seemed to be on an extremely low setting-everything seemed slightly blurred around the edges.

"Oh, right. I forgot to tell you." Clint cleared his throat, looking out the window. "Pietro, this procedure was not seamless. It actually had many side effects-including placing you in a coma for almost a full year."

"So I've been unconscious for a year?"

"Yes-ever since the Battle of Sokovia."

"This is ridiculous…where's Wanda?"

Clint didn't answer. He seemed to be absorbed in his current mission of investigating Pietro's progress reports.

"Clint, where's Wanda?"

When the archer finally looked at him, Pietro was shocked to realize that his eyes had turned as hard as granite. "Wanda died during the battle. When she thought you had been killed, she went to find Ultron. We lost contact with her…Tony postponed the vaporization for as long as he could, but eventually we had to blow the city to kingdom come. Wanda's body was never recovered."

The blood running through Pietro's veins had turned to ice water. He could barely breathe; the world seemed to swim in front of his eyes. Clint hadn't said that. He must have misheard him. Wanda couldn't be dead. She couldn't.

He'd never gotten to say goodbye. "What?"

"We did everything we could. We had a search crew out there for six months…but nothing was ever found. We think she got vaporized. I'm sorry, Pietro. I'm so sorry."

For just a moment, he was hit with a wave of sadness that was so intense he actually felt dizzy with its weight. Then he decided to get angry-because at least anger burned. It didn't freeze. "You're lying."

"Would you like to see the records?"

"What records?"

"The Sokovian government released a list of all the victims. There were 139. 139 people we couldn't save. 139 people dead because of us." He handed Pietro a thick sheaf of papers. Each paper was headed with the seal of the Sokovian Embassy.

With a feeling of dread, Pietro scanned the list of the dead and their respective ages. There was a wide variety-from little babies to the elderly. There were even a few names he recognized: the baker who had owned a shop down the street from the Maximoffs and always had extra cookies for the city's children, the social worker assigned to their case after their parents' deaths-Pietro and Wanda had run away from her no less than seven times-even two of his best friends that he'd played games of baseball in the streets with for twelve years. But he was to numb to feel anything as he skipped through to the Ms. He was hoping there wouldn't be any names he recognized.

Finally, he reached victim 102.

 _Wanda Maximoff. Age seventeen._

Pietro abruptly pushed himself to his feet. He was still shaking from months of inactivity, but that didn't stop him from doing the only thing he could do at that moment.

He ran out the door of the clinic, down the street, and into a small forest off of the city. Branches tore at his shirt, but he didn't care. He had to stay in constant motion-he didn't even want to think about what would happen if he stopped.

Finally, he reached a meadow filled with yellow dandelion heads. He stopped short, shoes skidding in the packed dirt. Dandelions had always been Wanda's favorite flower. Even though they were just common weeds, she'd loved them immensely-more than any other flower, including the rather exotic orchids their mother had gotten at the florists on special occasions. She had always thought they were beautiful, despite their innate ability to spread anywhere and everywhere. Before the shelling, she'd been able to see the beauty in everything-even in the smallest patch of dirt.

And now she was gone.

He dropped to his knees among the weeds, crushing a handful of plants in each hand. "Wanda!" He screamed it to the sky, reaching out for her presence the way he'd always been able to in the past.

There was nothing there.

"Where are you?" The cry tore from his throat, lost and broken.

Just like him.

How was he supposed to live on without her by his side?

"Wanda?" He didn't know what he was expecting-some kind of reply maybe, or even a feeling of warmth rather than the earth shattering darkness that seemed to be devouring his insides. But nothing happened. Nothing changed. He was still on his knees in a foreign country, broken and lonely, with only coldness and bitterness where his heart should be.

He was still missing the sister he had lost forever.

There was blood underneath her fingernails.

She knelt near the stream, trying frantically to scrub it out. The water was stained red, yet there was still more blood caked on her hands-on her fingernails, in the joints of her fingers, in the lines and ridges of her palms. There was too much of it.

She tried to remember something, anything, about how she had come to be here. Memories came in bits and pieces-a long, thin needle; blood everywhere, choking her, scrambling up a grassy hill, her fingers slipping in the damp grass as she groped for handholds, and screams. Her own screams.

She lay on the bank for a long time, waiting for her pulse to go back to normal. She felt sick and scared-because she couldn't clearly remember a thing about her past or even her present. Her mind was a blank slate, devoid of faces.

Except for a single name.

Pietro.

A name that had no face to accompany it.

Finally, when she had cleaned herself up as best as she was able, she began to consider the pressing problem of finding a place to stay. Preferably with someone she could talk to-someone who knew Pietro. It was still light out-around five thirty if she was reading the sunlight correctly-but it would be getting dark sooner rather than later. And she didn't exactly relish the idea of spending the night outside.

She turned down a beaten and worn dirt path and continued along in silence, listening to the chirping of birds in the canopy above her head. After about ten minutes, the path widened and turned to gravel-soon it became a concrete road. Ten minutes later, she was having to dodge cars as the road turned into a highway snaking its way into a city of tall buildings. The sun was starting to set by now-a burning ball of fire on the western horizon. Soon it would be full on dark-and she was still hopelessly lost.

She passed a sign that read 'Now Entering the City of Belfast. Enjoy your Stay!' and tried to pinpoint her exact location. Belfast was a European city; she was certain of that. Belfast… _Ireland._ The pieces finally began to click into place.

The street was busy with commuters heading home after a long day of work-and the sidewalks were no less jammed with pedestrians. She felt herself being shoved to and fro as people left and joined the current, carrying her along to an unknown destination. For the first time since starting her journey into the city, she felt frightened. She was in a strange city in a strange country with only an ID and a handful of paper bills to her name. She didn't know where she was or where she was meant to be.

Suddenly, she was shoved aside by a man in a long brown dinner jacket. She fell, hitting the concrete hard and rolling instinctively. Waves of pain crawled up her arm as she looked around the busy thoroughfares to see if she could find whoever had pushed her down. Unfortunately, he had already disappeared into the onslaught of people.

She tried to stay out of the way of the other pedestrians while she got her bearings. She needed a plan. Wandering the city streets would only last her so long. Eventually she would need a place to stay the night, even if that turned out to be just a small coffee shop where she could get a hot beverage to calm her nerves.

Suddenly a callused hand entered her line of vision. She allowed the stranger to help her to her feet, taking a good look at him as he did so. He was wearing a Game of Thrones t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. His unruly black hair stuck out in every direction, and he had the deepest dimples she had ever seen. "Are you lost?" he asked kindly.

"Perhaps. Who are you?"

"Damien Walker-of Walker and Sons: Attorneys at Law."

"You don't look much like a lawyer."

He laughed. "I'm on vacation. We should be able to have some fun too, you know. Every great once in a while."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"You don't look much like a local." he said, interrupting her casually. "Who are you?"

"Marya Lanham." she lied smoothly.

"And what brings you to Ireland, Miss Lanham?"

"Vacation." she answered quickly. Too quickly.

Damien didn't look convinced. "As you say. You know, you never really answered my first question. Are you lost?"

She looked down, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the cinderblock edge of a nearby building. "Yes. I've only just arrived."

"Do you need a place to stay for the night?"

"That would be nice."

"I know of a little place where you could stay for a week or so if you wanted to. They have good accommodations and reasonable rates…They also tend not to ask a lot of questions." He gave her directions; it wasn't a long walk. Which was good; her feet were starting to hurt so much she thought they were in danger of coming off entirely.

The hotel was named Inn by the Garden, and she immediately thought the name was relevant. Plant fronds and tendrils grew up over the low stone building like a protective shield.

 _Shield…_ She stopped in the driveway, trying to interpret the memory fragment. What did a shield have to do with anything?

She waited intently for some time, but nothing happened. Eventually, the feeling faded away until she was no longer sure the word held any special significance to her at all. She was so tired she could barely stand; her sleep deprived mind could easily be conjuring fantasies.

The woman working the front desk greeted her with a smile as she checked in. "How long will you be staying with us, Marya?"

She didn't know why she was so set on keeping her real name a secret. All that she was certain of in this strange new world was that there were people after her-perhaps even now closing the distance between them-and they knew her by the name on her plastic ID card. It was burning a hole in her jacket pocket, especially since it had the name 'Wanda Maximoff' written on it in black ink. "Indefinitely."

The woman handed her a single key on a long silver chain, to wear around her neck so she would have easy access to it. "Enjoy your stay."

The room Wanda had been given was large and spacious, with a view of a sprawling flower garden that covered the back of the lawn. It was massive, almost like one of the fairy gardens she'd liked to make when she was just a little girl. It made for a calming view; she stood facing it as she scrolled through the contacts on her phone for the millionth time. The small electronic device had been completely wiped; her phone was devoid of all numbers, pictures, or other identifying information.

And yet none of that mattered to Wanda. All that did matter was that name: Pietro. As she got ready for bed, she promised herself that she would find out exactly why that name was so important to her. She knew that she had met someone named Pietro before; perhaps they'd even been close. She was sure that he would remember her, if no one else did.

She was going to meet him again, even if it took weeks or even months of careful research. She didn't know of another person, living or dead, who could help her unlock her memories.

And at the moment, that was first priority. She had to figure out what was going on-and fast, before her pursuers caught up with her.

Maybe Pietro would know where she had been for the last year of her life.

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	2. In Search of Answers

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 **Disclaimer: see Chapter 1.**

 **On to the next chapter! Enjoy!**

Pietro was flown back to New York City later that week. His wounds were (mostly) healed, which he used as an excuse to get out of the city. Seoul was a nice place, but it wasn't home. Then again, his true home had been vaporized. His true home didn't exist anymore.

It was late at night and he was somewhere over Western Europe, watching the lights of some distant city go by far below him. From this high in the air, everything seemed a lot smaller and insignificant than it actually was. It gave him flashbacks to another time and place when he'd been miles above the earth.

But this time he knew he would come back down.

 _I'm not going to leave you._

 _I can handle them. Come back when everyone is safe, and not before._

And he had. At least, he'd seen everyone safely to their transports. If he hadn't been temporarily incapacitated, he would have gone back for her. He would have taken her to safety and together they could have watched their city be vaporized. Now he didn't even know what had happened to Sokovia, although Clint had told him there was nothing left but a hole in the ground where a country teeming with people had once stood. Pietro wasn't sure he would be able to believe him until he saw that hole himself. Until that day came, Sokovia would always remain as it had once been-green, lush, and beautiful. At least in Pietro's mind.

"You should be trying to get some sleep." Natasha said from her post in the navigator's chair. She was flipping through Netflix, trying to find something to watch.

"I am-but it's not working." Pietro kept replaying that day over and over in his mind's eye-what could he have done instead? What could he have done better?

How could he have saved her?

"You can't possibly be blaming yourself for any of this." It wasn't a question; it was quite apparent that was exactly what he was doing.

"I told her that I wouldn't leave her, but she forced me to go. If I had refused, if I had stayed with her-"

"My best friend would be dead, his three children would be fatherless, and you'd always be wondering what would have happened if you'd gone." She glanced toward the back of the plane, where Clint was refilling his coffee cup as the Quinjet flew on autopilot.

"I still wonder. I still have regrets."

"Pietro, you had six or seven bullets buried in your sternum. You should have died after a stint like that. How could you have walked off seven bullets, gone back into the city, found your sister, and gotten onto the helicarrier safely? It's impossible. And maybe you'll never quite forgive yourself completely, but one day you'll be able to move on. One day you'll be able to move forward. Take it from someone who knows firsthand what it's like."

Pietro wasn't sure he would ever move on. Instead of letting his thoughts consume him, he pulled on his headphones and began to browse Netflix as well. "I could have done something else. I could have planned better."

Natasha changed the subject. "Are those Beats?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. No offense, but you don't strike me as the kind of guy who would buy a pair of Beats."

"I didn't. I stole them. We were supposed to be shopping for back to school shoes, but we passed an Apple store on the way there. There was a pair of them just lying around, completely unattended. I had to talk Wanda into it, but eventually she pretended to be interested in buying a phone so I could grab the headphones and get out."

"She didn't want a phone?"

"We wouldn't have been able to afford them. Besides, we didn't need them in the first place. We've always had this sort of telepathic connection. We've always been able to tell if one of us was hurt."

"Sounds like the two of you made a good team."

"The very best." He could feel moisture collecting in the corner of his eye and wiped it away furiously. He was an adult now. He had to keep his emotions intact.

Although there had been many occasions over the last couple of weeks that had made him question his resolve.

"Hey, it's all right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"

"No, it's fine. I just…I think I'm going to watch some Breaking Bad at the moment." He selected an episode at random and let the noise of the show fill his mind and drown out everything-the soft hum the jet engines made as they flew to their destination, Natasha's voice as she tried again to apologize, and especially his own regrets.

New York City was rainy and grey. Clouds hung low over the city's skyscrapers, weeping ran like tears. Pietro thought there was a sort of poetic justice in it all as Clint piloted the jet to a smooth stop in Avengers Tower. "We're building a new facility upstate." Clint said as a flight crew led them to an illuminated landing ramp. "It'll be twice as big-and a lot more secluded."

Pietro nodded solemnly and slung his small sack of belongings over one shoulder. He didn't have much-his Beats, of course; a golden wedding ring that had belonged to his mother; a well-worn paperback copy of The Art of War, his father's favorite book; a few extra changes of clothes; and Wanda's sketchbook. She'd taken the sketchbook with her everywhere; it was only due to a stroke of chance that he had it in the first place. He'd taken it out to look at some of her drawings the night before the battle and had forgotten to put it back.

He thumbed through the pages, watching memories flash by. HYDRA had confiscated all their family pictures when they enlisted, so Wanda had taken to drawing replicas during the long hours they spent in HYDRA's cells, waiting for their powers to manifest. There were lots of pictures of them as a family-boating on a crystal clear lake, having a picnic in the park, cutting the twins' two birthday cakes on their eighth birthday…

Clint glanced at the book over his shoulder. "Did you draw those?"

"No. They're Wanda's. I never had the patience for art."

"They're beautiful."

"Yes. She's a very good artist. I wanted her to go to art school after the experiments were over."

"You know that HYDRA never planned to let you go, right? You were weapons after your powers manifested for the first time-not even human in their eyes." He steered him down a small side hallway that opened onto an even smaller courtyard. "Come on. There's something I want you to see."

Pietro followed him with his heart in his stomach as they crossed the small enclosed space to a large, smooth rock that lay in the shade of a sprawling cherry blossom tree. The tree was covered in pink and white blooms; some of them had fallen onto the rock itself and Pietro had to wipe them away to see what had been meticulously etched into the rock's tough surface:

 _Wanda Marya Maximoff_

 _1997-2015_

 _Killed in the Battle of Sokovia, protecting the core._

 _She died an Avenger._

Pietro knelt next to the stone, running his fingertips across its length. It helped him feel closer to his sister; he had something to hold on to.

Especially now that his world had been turned completely upside down.

Wanda barely slept that night. Her dreams kept her awake.

Usually, dreams had never been a problem for her. She created them. There was no need for her to fear them. But this was different-her dreams were filled with half remembered memories: hiding under a bed while a bomb lay in the next room, a boy with a shock of white-blond hair and the ability to run faster than sound, a shining blue gem, fighting robots in a flying city, falling for what seemed like an eternity, harsh lights, needles, and the constant and metallic scent of blood. Everything was disjointed and disconnected; nothing made sense.

Finally, she gave sleep up as a lost cause. She tried to sort through the tangle in her head to see if she could latch onto anything-even the smallest memory could make a difference. But the harder she probed the edges of her consciousness, the harder she was rebuked. It was as if there was something else in her mind-something malevolent that didn't want her to remember what she'd done for the last year. It was almost a relief when the sun peeked its head over the horizon and Wanda was able to get a cup of coffee. At first it tasted extremely bitter, but after being laced with enough creamer it began to go down more easily.

She was able to use one of the inn's computers, but she wasn't sure what to search. She didn't even know Pietro's last name.

After staring at a blank screen for a while, a wild idea finally came to her. She began to type, fingers flying over the keyboard as she put Wanda Maximoff into the search engine.

Instantly, a string of results popped up. She clicked on the first article at the top of the screen, taken from Sokovia's one and only newspaper:

 _139 Killed in Destruction of City_

 _139 Sokovian citizens were killed in the attack on our country last week. The city was completely vaporized, killing anyone in it at the time and destroying any and all bodies. These 139 'victims' are missing and presumed dead…_

The article went on to talk about each of the victims individually. Wanda skipped over lines of names and faces until she found her own.

 _Wanda Maximoff, age seventeen. Orphaned at the age of ten, she and her twin brother were shunted from foster home to foster home until they signed up for top secret government experiments when they were sixteen years old. She is survived by her twin brother, Pietro, who also went missing after the battle and is presumed dead._

She had a brother named Pietro. Wanda thought that should spark some kind of memories-but she couldn't remember anything about him.

Next, she searched his name to see if she could find his whereabouts. She came across a website about a doctor named Helen Cho, who was based in South Korea. The corresponding article read:

 _Local Doctor Devises New Treatment_

 _Dying from bullet wounds may be a thing of the past. Doctor Helen Cho, a well-known pioneer in the field of biomedical engineering, has created a cradle that can regrow healthy tissue and get rid of tissue that is old or diseased. Most recently, the device was tested on Pietro Maximoff, a refugee from Sokovia who was shot seven times while trying to defend the city. Although there was little to no hope that he would live, under Dr. Cho's careful care he was able to make a full recovery and will be returning to his new home, New York City, within the next couple of weeks._

New York City was a place she could find. In fact, if she left now she would be able to catch a plane and could be in the city in only a day or so.

Wanda switched off the computer and found directions to the nearest airport

After purchasing a one way ticket to New York City, Wanda realized that she still had about five hours until her plane left. Instead of waiting at the airport, which was crowded with families and extremely loud, she decided to wander the city for a little while instead.

She passed open air parkways, little shops tucked away on the corners of small side streets, and family run pubs that reeked of ale and were filled with men singing the national anthem in raucous voices. Every so often, she would browse through one shop or anther filled with small trinkets or floating scarves. It was almost comforting to realize that no one here knew her any more than she knew herself.

Finally, she figured she should start heading back to the airport so she wouldn't miss her plane. The sun was beginning to set, bathing everything in a golden glow. Wanda got a sandwich at a small deli and sat on the curb to watch the sun set. It was a beautiful sight, even though her view was obstructed by numerous buildings and cars.

She found she was making good time as she approached Belfast's city center, so she let her mind wander to what would happen when she reached New York. She didn't know where to go or who to call, so she'd be spending most of her first day wandering aimlessly. But that was fine by her. At least she knew she'd be in the vicinity of her brother-a large vicinity, but still.

Just then, she heard something behind her. She spun around, but the rest of the street was deserted. Deciding that whatever she had heard was just a figment of her imagination, she kept walking. But she continued to feel a shadow-a constant presence that passed just outside her line of sight.

Her first thought was that she was being followed.

Her second was that they had found her.

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	3. Reunion-Sort of

**On to the next chapter! Thanks for the positive feedback. It really makes my day :)**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

Wanda tried to read a magazine as the plane taxied down the runway. The roaring of the jet engines filled her ears and rattled her skull, but it didn't matter. In just a few short hours she would be in New York City-and then she could start looking for her brother.

The city of Belfast shrank below her until it was smaller than a doll village. The cars on the roads seemed like nothing more than dots-and then, as the plane entered the cloud level, they dwindled until they were nothing at all. She was leaving her pursuers far, far behind her.

She'd managed to avoid a confrontation but just barely-and it had almost caused her to miss her plane. Her path to the airport had been intentionally long and winding-down side streets and through small shops-but she thought she'd shaken them off, whoever they were.

It was like poking a pit bull with a stick; it would just make them angry. But she'd bought herself a little time-hopefully, just enough.

The cabin's lights dimmed to reflect the night outside. Everything seemed calm, peaceful, and tranquil-a world out of time. Wanda knew that with every second she spent in the air and every mile the plane covered she was growing closer and closer to her destination. And hopefully, when she reached her destination she would also reach the end of her quest for knowledge.

~V102~

"Come on, kid. I've seen you do better than that."

Pietro rolled his eyes and glared at Clint. The guy had to be the best archer he'd ever seen, but Clint also liked to taunt-perhaps too much for his own good. He took a second to collect himself-occasionally he ran into walls when he wasn't focused up-before he took off again. He saw Clint aim a practice bow at him but he ducked easily, pulling the bow out of his hands and throwing it across the room in one easy motion. "How was that?"

"Better-but I think you can do more."

Pietro bristled. This was never how it had been. Even as children, Wanda had been the one who was always encouraging him-always pushing him to go further and faster, to stay focused even though it could be hard, and to accept orders without question or complaint. It was her right to correct him-not Clint's.

Feeling worked up, he started the next round before he was ready-and almost immediately knew something was wrong. He'd started too early…his foot slipped on the training center's tile floor, skidded for a while, and then slammed into a rack of blunted samurai swords. They all fell off the rack at once; an especially long sword hit him in the gut.

Instantly, Clint came over to help him up. "Whoa there, kid. Slow down for just a hot second. You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." He shoved the rack away; swords spilled down the length of the training center floor. He swore colorfully before he pushed himself to his feet again. "My bad. Sorry."

"It's okay. Hey, are you sure you're feeling all right? You're looking a little pale."

"I'm fine. I'm just going to get some coffee." He went into the kitchen before Clint could follow him. He didn't want to have to explain things, especially the mood swings. Some moments he felt completely fine and the next he would get so angry with himself or sad about what had happened in Sokovia that he would need to go for a 'run' around the city just so he could cool himself down.

This was one of those times.

He went back into his room and put on a fresh set of running clothes. It was really early; in fact, the sun had barely risen. Perfect. He liked peace and quiet. He liked being able to run and run without worrying about being hit by cars or trampling civilians. "I'm going for a run." he called. "Does anyone want anything?"

"Shawarma!" he heard Natasha call from her basement office. What she did down there was anyone's guess-the only one who had actually been there was Tony on one of his frequent visits to the Tower. He'd been looking for some of her Russian vodka, but he'd run back upstairs an hour later shivering and refusing to talk to anyone. All he would say was that Natasha's office was absolutely not a liquor store.

"Some new laundry detergent would be nice." Steve said. "Vision needs a new hard drive."

"How about a six pack of diet coke?" Sam chimed in.

"What do you want, Rhodey?" Pietro called. "A hand knit Christmas sweater?"

"Very funny. I'm fine. Really, I'm fine." James called from the training center.

"Suit yourself. I'll be back in about an hour." Pietro drank half a cup of coffee and sighed. He could run all he wanted to-for minutes, hours, or even days. He could run out of the city, out of the country, even off the continent, but he could never escape the memories-no matter how much he wanted to.

The city was relatively quiet this early in the morning. He only passed a few other joggers, although by the time they realized what was going on, he had long since left them in the dust. He didn't care. He wasn't present-not really. He was back in Sokovia, back in a dead city with dead people.

And Wanda.

Wanda…he would never hold her again, talk to her again, protect her again…she was gone. She was gone and she was never coming back. And in a way, in all the ways that mattered, that was his fault.

Just then, he full on crashed into someone. They both went sprawling, dirt and gravel flying everywhere. "I'm so sorry-"

He saw a curtain of brown hair and a pair of wide brown eyes-and then she was gone, vanishing into a nearby storefront.

And somehow, inexplicably so, his cold and dead heart began to beat again.

He skidded to a halt in the middle of Broadway. He could have sworn he'd just seen a ghost-of course, he didn't really believe in them. But for second there he could have sworn he'd just crashed into Wanda.

Pietro ran back to the place where the collision had occurred. The road was deserted, so he looked in all the stores in the nearby vicinity. However, he didn't find anything-there wasn't a sign of the brown haired woman.

 _You're losing it, Pietro. Imagining things that don't exist, seeing things that aren't there…you probably just imagined her in the first place._

He started to walk again, walking faster and faster until he was practically running. Manhattan Island streamed by on either side of him-high buildings towering to the sky, more coffee shops than he could count, and building upon building of identical office cubicles. He arrived back at Avengers Tower ten minutes later.

"How was your walk?" Steve asked.

"It was…fine."

"Do you have the laundry detergent?"

Pietro ran a hand through his short hair. "I apologize. I was so absorbed in other things that I completely forgot."

"Hey, don't worry about it. We'll go and get some later. It's not a big deal. It's fine." Steve looked at him with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Completely fine"

"If you want to talk about it-"

"I said I'm fine!" He immediately felt bad for yelling at Steve. During all of this, Steve had been one of the most welcoming to Pietro; in his opinion, Pietro had been given a clean slate after Sokovia. He seemed almost happy to let bygones be bygones. He didn't deserve to be yelled at. "I'm going out on the terrace."

"Okay. You know, Pietro, losing someone you care about isn't an easy thing. If you need or talk-or even just to vent…I'm not saying you have to, but I'm here just in case."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." And he did. He just didn't think he was going to take his advice.

Ever.

~V102~

"Chestnuts! Get you hot chestnuts here!"

Wanda stepped out of the airport and directly into the path of an oncoming pushcart. A man screamed at her in a language that sounded suspiciously like Italian until she got out of the way. Seconds after the road was clear, the cart shot by; its vendor still screaming about having the best prices.

It was early morning; the sun had barely risen over the Manhattan skyline and everything was covered in the golden glow of dawn. The streets were still crowded; the taxi she'd commandeered to take her into the city idled in traffic for almost an hour. Eventually, she asked to be let out early before the rate became too expensive.

At first she didn't know exactly where she was-until she saw the neon flashing signs for all the different shows playing on Broadway. It was amazing to be in the premiere theatre district of the country, especially because Wanda had always dreamed of going to a theatre and seeing a real play. Sokovia had one theatre but no real acting company. Her family had gone to see The Nutcracker every December, but other than that none of the plays the theatre had put on were in any way ritzy or high class.

Her parents had bought her tickets to see a musical-a real musical-in Moscow for her eleventh birthday.

Unfortunately, they'd died before she got the chance to go.

Just then, a blur of blue crashed into her and knocked her down. She banged her elbow on a patch of concrete and tore a hole in her jeans, but other than that she was unharmed.

The man who had run into her stood up. "I'm so sorry." He was very tall, with mostly silver hair, brown eyes, and a t-shirt advertising a band called Kansas.

She was about to say that it was all right, but he left before she could. Wanda got up, brushed herself off, and went into the nearest store to clean herself up.

The store happened to sell antique books; it was filled with stack upon stack of dusty tomes. "Good morning!" the woman behind the desk called. "Half off all merchandise unless otherwise marked!"

Wanda decided to browse. Most of the books were older than she was, their covers crumbling to dust. After a while, she stumbled across a small volume with a brightly colored cover. The title of the book was Avengers: Age of Ultron. That certainly rang a bell.

 _This is impossible…_ She began to flip through the pages as quickly as she could. There was a picture of someone who looked almost exactly like her standing next to someone who was labelled as Pietro. "Why am I in a book?" she muttered.

The clerk looked up from a cooking magazine. "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

"Never mind. Who are these…Avengers?"

The woman's face morphed into an expression of disbelief. "You don't know who the _Avengers_ are? I don't mean to be rude, but have you been living under a rock? I thought everyone know who the Avengers were. They've become household names."

"I'm a…foreigner. We don't have them where I come from."

"The Avengers are a team of Earth's mightiest superheroes-six of the best and brightest our world has to offer. After what happened in Sokovia, we got a whole new team." She took the book and turned to a picture of a man in a red, white, and blue spangled costume. "This is Captain America, their leader. He was injected with a super soldier serum in World War II and sacrificed himself in a mission to save the world. He was frozen in ice for almost seventy years. Talk about a culture shock. Then there's Black Widow. Ex KGB assassin. I hear she's the best of her kind. She can kill with anything and outtalk anybody. There's War Machine-he wears a suit of armor that allows him to fly and shoot repulsor rays. He's a friend of Tony Stark, who made the first Ironman suit. Eventually, Tony designed one for him."

She pointed to another guy with mechanical wings, soaring over a tall building. "This is Falcon. He has mechanical wings, obviously, that he can attach and detach at will. He's been out of the public eye for a while-some kind of missing persons case, or so I've managed to pick up. Then there's the Vision. He's an android, another of Tony's creations. He's one of the most powerful members of the team-the gem in the center of his forehead contains almost limitless power if handled properly. And finally there's Quicksilver, the newest member of the team. He can run faster than sound, although he can also be extremely quiet. And I don't blame him. During the Battle of Sokovia last year, he lost his sister. They were twins. The poor boy. I can only imagine how hard it must be for him to move on." She blushed a deep shade of crimson. "As you can see, I'm a bit of a casual fan myself."

"Yes. Would you mind telling me where exactly I can find the Avengers?"

"Just look for Avengers Tower. I think they're in town this weekend. The building is huge; you can't miss it. Good luck getting inside, though. It's kind of an appointment only operation."

"Oh, I don't think I need to worry about that." Wanda pushed the precious book across the counter so the cashier could ring it up and bag it. "I think I'm Quicksilver's sister."

~V102~

Pietro had been out on the terrace for almost three hours. It was promising to be a nice day; sunny and warm. He paced solidly, back and forth and back and forth. He couldn't slow down and he couldn't stop. He couldn't remember a time he'd felt this worked up or this out of control.

He didn't want to talk. He couldn't. Steve meant well, but he didn't understand. He didn't know what it was like to lose the only thing you had left-the only thing that mattered. He'd lost everything except his sister-and now he'd lost her too.

Sooner or later he would have to move on. Sooner or later he would have to start to pretend that he was okay.

He didn't know if he could.

Just then, the screen door opened and Natasha stepped outside. "There's someone at the door, Pietro."

"Okay. Why don't you let whoever it is come inside?"

"Because…I think you should meet her first."

Reluctantly, Pietro followed her down the entrance hall and into the grand foyer. Someone was standing on the doorstep-Pietro stopped short and almost crashed into Natasha.

The girl at the front door looked in at them curiously. "Hello. Do you mind if I come in? My name is Wanda Maximoff. I was told my brother lives here. I want to see him." She was very calm-too calm.

But she was the real thing. Pietro was sure of that. "Wanda…you're alive?"

"Yes. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get here. Flying from Ireland to New York is no party-"

Pietro couldn't take it in. He thought he should be saying something-at the very least asking her where she'd been. But something about her seemed different. Something seemed a little…off. Pietro moved to hug her, but she didn't hug him back. "I missed you so much." he muttered. "I thought you were dead."

She nodded absently. "For a while, so did I."

He felt like a little child, just seeking assurance. "Did you miss me at all?"

She faced him head on, calm and expressionless. "It's very nice to see you, but it's hard to miss someone you can't remember."

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Procedure

**Sorry about the delay. I got caught up with something else I'm writing that isn't a fanfiction and I was determined to finish that. Anyway, now it's finished and I can get onto the next chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

The next few days were among the strangest of Pietro's life. He wasn't sure how he should feel about the newest addition to the team-this girl who looked and acted just like Wanda but treated him like a complete stranger. And it wasn't just him either-it was like she didn't remember anyone. She kept having to ask Rhodey what his name was and what exactly had happened in Sokovia. Above all, she had no idea where she'd been or what she'd been doing for the past year.

Steve set her up in a room that adjoined with Pietro's. It was a little on the small side, but it was also clean and boasted an excellent view of the training courtyard.

"So, do you want to train a little bit later?" Natasha asked. "We just need a read on your skillset. Nothing major."

"Not right now." Wanda said almost curtly. "I mean, I feel pretty jet lagged. Is it all right if I take a nap for a couple hours?"

"Yeah, of course. Just call down if you need anything. We'll be here for the rest of the afternoon."

"Thank you." After that, they left her to unpack. At least, most of the other Avengers did. Pietro stayed in his room and lay on his bed, staying as still as he could while he listened to the sounds that filtered in through the walls: drawers being opened and closed, a bag being zipped and unzipped. He would have been content to listen to those noises for the rest of the afternoon; they meant that his sister was alive and well.

After a while he began to hear the sound of singing. He held his breath and listened carefully; he thought he recognized the tune as a Russian folk song their mother had often sang to them when they were small children. He listened in silence for a minute or two as Wanda's voice filled the room, high and sweet.

Pietro didn't realize he was singing along until he heard Wanda falter slightly. Slowly he trailed off and watched the door curiously.

"Do you know how to harmonize?" she asked after a while.

"Yeah. I can take the alto part, if you would like to take soprano."

"All right." Wanda started to sing first, her lilting voice echoing throughout the room. After a moment, Pietro added his low baritone under hers. The different layers intertwined until they blended into one all new sound-a sound that Pietro thought was pretty good, in spite of himself.

Finally, Wanda fell silent again. "Do you want to sing another?" Pietro asked. He felt that for a moment, just for a moment, they'd been connecting. And he wasn't willing to let that go so easily.

In response, he heard a door slam. By the time he reached the hallway, he was just in time to see a few strands of brown hair disappearing around the corner of the stairwell that led downstairs.

"Nice duet." Steve said, stepping out of his own room across the hall. Pietro could see a Brooklyn Dodgers poster-from 1943-glaring down at him from the other side of the room.

"Thanks." Pietro glanced at Wanda and sighed, as if that would bring her back upstairs.

"Something wrong?"

"She doesn't know me. She doesn't recognize me. We've been together for our entire lives. We've done everything together. And now she just….when she looks at me, she doesn't see a brother. She doesn't even see a friend. She just sees a stranger."

"I know how hard it can be: to have one of the most important people in your life not realize who you are. But thinking about it this way-amnesia doesn't have to be permanent. Amnesia can be fixed. Death can't."

"Do you think we can get her memories back?"

"I think it's worth a shot-and I know just who to call."

~V102~

It was Sam's turn to cook. Of course, he ended up making spaghetti tacos.

Spaghetti tacos were one of Sam's better creations. They were easy to make; all you had to do was boil a pot of spaghetti and fill a plain tortilla. Pietro couldn't get enough of them.

Usually, dinners at the Avengers base were filled with laughter, stories, and bad puns. However, tonight there was an almost imperceptible tension in the air-so thick he could practically cut through it with his steak knife. It was only a matter of time before someone set it off.

Wanda sat on one side of him, taken another forkful of spaghetti. She didn't talk to him; she wouldn't even look in his general direction. Pietro felt like whatever moment they'd shared that afternoon was gone. He was back to square one. "How are you adjusting?" he asked tentatively.

She took a bite of her taco listlessly. "Fine." Short, simple, and to the point.

"Can you find everything you need?"

"Yes."

James defused the tension by telling everyone his classic War Machine story. It was getting pretty old (he insisted on telling it at least once a week) but all the Avengers laughed in all the right places so as not to insult James. It worked-for a few minutes, everyone was laughing.

And then Wanda had to ruin the mood. She turned to Pietro, setting her fork down with a soft _clink._ "Why were you singing with me?"

"I recognized that song. I didn't know it bothered you-"

"How do you know that song?" Pietro knew she was really asking _How do I know that song?_

"Our mother used to sing it to us at night, when we couldn't sleep."

"I don't need your help." she said, changing the subject abruptly.

"What do you mean?" The other Avengers were watching the proceedings with unease; they were obviously just fishing for an excuse so they could leave the table.

"I notice things-like the way you follow me around. You're like my shadow-you just won't leave me alone. I don't need your help. I can take care of myself."

Then Pietro snapped. He wasn't about to forget all the sleepless night, all the days he'd spent by her headstone. He'd thought he was slowly dying-and she didn't have any right to dismiss or discount that for anything less than it was. "Do know why I feel a need to look after you and keep you safe? Because I need reassurance. I know you may not remember, but I remember you. And I remember how everyone thought you had died. Now I'm still having a hard time believing you're here. You're my sister. You're my responsibility-and I will do whatever it takes to protect you-even if that means making sure you're settling in okay."

For a minute she just glared at him, strains of red magic sparking from her hands. Then she stood up from the table with a huff, sending her chair flying back into the table. "Leave me alone."

She turned to leave, but Vision caught her wrist. The sleeve of her sweater had ridden up during the argument, revealing a series of numbers and black lines that had been inked onto her lower arm. It almost looked like…Pietro rubbed his eyes, sure he was just seeing things.

The tattoo looked almost like a bar code.

Steve stood up and cleared his throat so they would all look at him, although he spoke directly to Wanda. "We have a friend in New York City who's a lot more equipped for this then we are. He'll be able to figure out what happened to you."

"What is his name?"

"Tony Stark."

~V102~

Avengers Tower was almost deserted at this time of night. Most of the SHIELD agents who made it their workspace had already gone home for the night.

Tony met the small group in the lobby. "And what can I do for all of you at nine o'clock at night?" he asked jovially.

"We need you to do a quick brain scan on Wanda using that machine you were telling me about." Steve gently encouraged Wanda to step forward. Ever since they'd left the base, she'd shadowed the rest of the group like a nervous puppy.

Tony's mouth practically dropped open and he had to struggle to close it. "Wanda…Maximoff? I thought she-"

"We did, too. But apparently she didn't. Listen, we wouldn't be bothering you if this wasn't a matter of the utmost importance. Unfortunately, Wanda has a bad case of amnesia and she can't remember us-or where she's been for the last year."

"Oh. Well, I'll see what I can do. Let's go to the lab." He led them up a series of staircases and passed numerous offices with darkened windows until they reached what Pietro assumed was a laboratory. It didn't look like any laboratory he'd ever been inside. He didn't see the harsh lighting and sharp metal objects that looked like medieval torture devices. Instead he saw a room that was airy and clean, lined with tables on both sides of the room and floor to ceiling windows with a view of the sleeping city.

There was a long metal table in the center of the room and Tony gestured for Wanda to lie down. "I'm just going to run this over your forehead to see if we can locate your memories." He pulled down on a large, flat machine that had been attached to the wall with a thin black bar. Wanda eyed it suspiciously and for a moment Pietro thought she would outright refuse.

"Please, Wanda." he whispered. "Don't you want those memories back?"

Reluctantly, she eased herself the rest of the way to the table. "Will it hurt?"

"It shouldn't." Tony said. "Just close your eyes and try to relax. I made this machine myself; it's very efficient. This'll all be over before you know it.

Wanda followed his advice. Pietro stood by her side, as close as she would allow him to be, in case anything went wrong.

Tony swept the machine back and forth once and then twice. "There's some interference…I can't quite pinpoint the problem…" Suddenly the device began to beep at an extremely fast pace, faster and faster until it was one constant noise. "Holy-"

And then Wanda started to scream. Immediately Pietro had her hand clasped in his, murmuring things under his breath to try and calm her down. "What's going on?" he yelled at Stark. "What are you doing to her? Turn it off!"

Tony was fumbling with the control panel on the wall. "It's not supposed to do that-"

Wanda was still screaming. For once, Pietro had no idea what was wrong. As such he didn't know how to help her-and it frustrated him. A lot. "Calm down, Wanda. It's going to be all right. There was just a little malfunction…Mr. Stark is going to fix this-"

Why wasn't the machine turning off? "Stark-"

"I'm trying." Tony said quickly. In a last ditch attempt, he ripped all the wires out of the wall. For a minute nothing happened-and then the machine completely shut down. Wanda took a moment to calm down, automatically creating a force field around her as she lay on the table, shivering. Pietro was pushed back-that had never happened to him before. Usually, Wanda had always allowed him to be with her, even in the midst of his worst episodes.

"What was that?" Pietro called. "What happened to her? You said there wouldn't be any tests! You promised!"

"I don't know why it did that! It was supposed to show me where the memories were stored-instead it just showed these flashes-and not good flashes either. Flashes of needles, scientists-and those were the most recent ones. I saw you during the Battle of Sokovia…you looked dead. I think Wanda was forced to relive those memories-that's why she was so upset. I think whoever took her memories put some kind of lock on them so she won't remember."

"Why would-"

Tony and Steve exchanged a look. "Let's take this outside. I have a feeling Wanda wants to be alone." Steve said, gesturing to the hallway. Pietro was reluctant to leave, but he knew Wanda needed time-and he was happy to give it.

"There are other ways of unlocking memories." Natasha said. "We can look into it…there are always triggers or something. Amnesia is never a flawless process-"

"I don't know if we necessarily want to do that."

"Why not?"

"What if the reasons were taken away for a reason? From what Tony was saying, they didn't look very good. Or maybe her brain did it subconsciously. We don't know where Wanda was for the last year. What if…it got to be too much?"

"Steve, we can't just ignore this. She has to learn who we are-who she is-"

"She can relearn. She can make new ones." Tony said.

"She can't go through life not remembering her first eighteen years."

"She'll learn in time. And, granted, we'll get rid of some of the good memories-but we'll also get rid of the bad memories too. I'm not saying we don't need pain in our lives, but Wanda has a chance to make a new life-a new life free of all memories of experiments and tests."

Pietro shook his head. "I'm finding a way to get those memories back-no matter what it takes. All the memories."

"Are you sure you want her to remember the experimentation? Sounds like what HYDRA did the two of you was a lot worse than getting injected with a serum. We'll help you with whatever you plan to do either way, but think it through first. This could be a good thing for her."

"She got through it before. She can get through it again." Pietro glanced back into the office. Wanda was sitting up by now, watching them carefully. He still didn't see even a sliver of recognition in her eyes.

He realized how much he missed that recognition-seeing her smile him, knowing how she was feeling just by looking into her eyes…they knew each other so well. Wanda had been his constant for as long as he could remember. He hadn't quite realized just how much he depended on her.

He was going to unlock her memories. He was going to get his sister back, no matter what it took.

 **One last note: I'm considering putting a romantic side plot in this story at some point, but I'm still debating pairings.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Plans

**Sorry about the long wait. I'm one of those people who is writing a lot of different things at once: I'm writing another fanfiction on this site, I just finished a fanfiction I haven't posted, and I'm typing up an original story I'm writing so I have a hard copy of it. But here is the next update! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

Wanda wouldn't talk to anyone for the rest of the drive back to the base. A couple of times Pietro tried to reach out to her but she ignored him completely and eventually he simply gave it up as a lost cause.

By the time they got back, it was after midnight. Steve suggested that everyone try and get some sleep-and the other members of the team were happy to comply.

Pietro lay awake for a long time, just thinking. Over the course of one day, his life had been completely and totally turned upside down. He had his sister back but she didn't remember him. And even he was beginning to wonder if it would be better just to keep it that way.

 _Don't think like that. She needs her memories back._

But if she didn't remember _anything,_ she wouldn't remember the shelling or the experimentation (which had been more like torture now that he thought about it) or their life on the streets. Would it be better just to spare her all of that-let her start over? What if he had that chance? Would he take it? He didn't know-and it was driving him insane.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door that adjoined the twins' rooms. Wanda eased the door open on near silent hinges. "Pietro? Are you up?"

Pietro sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah. What's up?"

"What were you talking about with the other members of the team?"

"Where to go from here. How to get your memories back. You do want them back, don't you?"

She threw him a look as if to say _You're kidding me, right?_ "Of course I do."

"We'll find a way to get them back." At that moment, Pietro made a silent promise-not just to her but to himself as well. If it was what Wanda really wanted, he would find a way retrieve the memories.

"I had…strange dreams." she confided, tossing little bits of magic back and forth and from hand to hand experimentally. "Bits and flashes of things I should remember…but I don't. Can you tell me one of the memories you have? It doesn't matter what it is, honestly, but it could trigger something."

Pietro wondered what to start with. He'd amassed hundreds of memories over the years and it took him a few minutes to sift through them all to find an appropriate time for this moment. Finally, he decided to start at the beginning. "One day, our parents took us to the park to feed the ducks in the pond. It was a beautiful summer day-one of those days where it's impossible to stay inside because it's so beautiful out.

"There was a family of rabbits taking shelter in a hollow log. You loved those rabbits-especially the baby ones. The mother rabbit even let us pet them for a little bit, running our fingers over their downy fur. We come up names for them too, though I can't remember them now. You even asked our parents if we could keep them. Of course they said we couldn't-our apartment didn't allow pets-but we spent a blissful afternoon in that park, petting the baby bunnies and playing with them in the soft green grass." This was the first clear memory he had; before that time the world had only come in flashes of faces of bits and sound. They'd been only two or three; too young to know what a bomb was or what it could to homes-to families.

Wanda stayed quiet, turning his words over and over in her mind. "It all sounds so innocent."

"It was. There were times…for a short period of time in my childhood, I thought the world was pure. I didn't know that bad things could happen to anyone other than comic book characters-and with comic books you can choose to stop reading whenever you want to and shut the story out."

"Obviously something changed that. What happened?"

"The government was overthrown. We were six years old. In fact, the revolution happened that very day, while Father was getting off work early and Mother was baking us a three layer birthday cake covered in chocolate and heaped with whipped cream. We had a lot of leftovers when all was said and done-that cake was so rich and decadent, but it was delicious. I managed to finish my entire piece, though I got sick later. We didn't know what was going on until the next morning, when members of the new government came through the city streets in their brown boots and shiny cars, ripping down all the old flags. We stood on the doorstep and watched them pass. It was almost exciting; everyone was singing the national anthem and celebrating in the streets. We didn't know where things were headed. We didn't know what was coming: the food shortages, the air raids, the rebellions…and eventually open war."

"What happened to those rabbits?"

Pietro shrugged. "I don't know. We never saw them again. Maybe they got the message before we did and got out of the city before things got bad. That's what I like believe, at least."

The night was quiet-so different from the nights they spent in the city, with its constant sounds of traffic and car alarms. Out here in the country-or as Rhodey liked to call it 'the middle of nowhere'-there were no houses, no people, and no enemies. Just the crickets with their nighttime sonatinas and the millions of stars looking down from above.

"What if I never get my memories back?" Wanda asked, twining her fingers in the quilt that covered his bed.

"You will. I promise."

She smiled ruefully. "You like to make promises, don't you?"

"I always keep my promises."

She sighed, glancing out the window at the dark fields of corn and the tall grasses that stood like sentries against the inky black night sky. "I hope you can keep this one."

~V102~

The next morning, Pietro gave his sister the full and unofficial tour of the Avengers base.

"Here's the kitchen." he said, waving to Sam. The Falcon was expertly flipping pancakes and pouring frothy glasses of orange juice. Pietro honestly thought that if he hadn't decided to join SHIELD he could have gone to culinary school.

"And here's the den." Rhodey was playing Grand Theft Auto and trying to explain how the game worked at the same time. Vision was watching in confusion as Rhodey crashed cars, swam in rivers, and occasionally hunted deer.

"There's the briefing room…the game room…and these are all conference rooms." The base was still so new that everything smelled like wet paint. Some of the furniture Director Fury had ordered was still coming; a few rooms simply contained long wooden tables waiting to be surrounded by chairs.

"This is the rec room." He indicated a room filled with a huge plasma screen TV and surround sound. "It's really just the TV room though. This is where we have our movie nights." The team ran on weekly movie nights and shawarma runs.

They met Natasha as they were passing yet another conference room. She nodded to the distractedly; she was on a phone call with someone and it didn't look like things were going away. The twins passed through as fast as they could.

Finally, they came to the training center. It was Pietro's favorite room in the entire facility-long, low, and filled with all manner of weapons. Guns hung on the walls; none of them were loaded, of course. Staffs and knives either hung in rows near the door or were in clearly marked bins on either side of the doorway. Best of all were the small cupboards; one for each hero where they could keep the gear that was strictly theirs. This was where Sam kept his wings and Steve kept his shield; in fact, Rhodey had the only empty space because his War Machine armor wouldn't fit inside of it. Pietro had a small revolver he'd been training with in his own space; he carried his Swiss army knife with him at all times. "We have training six days a week for about an hour each time. Our goal is to achieve fluency with many different kinds of weapons-like Steve says, you never know what situation you could find yourself in."

Just then, Steve strode in from a morning jog. He was steadily draining his water bottle as he grabbed his shield and practiced a few warm up throws. The shield soared around the room and back into his hand with the precision of a boomerang.

"That looks difficult." Wanda said, watching him practice.

Steve grinned as he caught the shield with practiced ease. "it's all in the wrist. You get used to it after a while. So, did the two of you get enough sleep?"

Pietro nodded. "How about you? How is it out there?"

"Beautiful-cool and sunny. I was thinking about grilling out tonight-maybe inviting a few people over for a housewarming party. What do you think?"

"Sounds great to me." Pietro had no quarrels with food as long as there was enough for his super metabolism. "What do you think, Wanda?"

"I'd be up for it." she replied. "Would we have corn on the cob?"

"You can't have a proper grill out without some. Listen, I'm late for a meeting with Natasha and a couple other SHIELD agents. Apparently, we need an inspector to come and make sure the base is completely sound. Does it look like this place is about to fall apart to you?"

Pietro laughed and knocked on one of the heavy steel walls that encased the training room-built to withstand missiles, bullets, and errant super powers. It was the one place he could remember feeling completely secure in. "I would say it's in pretty good shape. Well, we'll leave you to that meeting."

"Yeah. Hey, if the two of you ever want to work on skills or anything, the training room is always open. See you later."

"See you." Pietro led Wanda onto the back porch so they were facing mile upon mile of meadow, field and forest as far as they could say in any direction-except for a tiny road far in the distance. At times like these, it was hard to remember that they were superheroes fresh from saving the world-at least the twins were. The others had had a year to readjust, but Pietro was still having a hard time remembering that the battle had taken place in very early spring and now it was late summer-almost eighteen months later. Normally, he'd be able to talk things over with Wanda-but she was in even worse shape than he was.

"He seems nice." Wanda said once they were situated at a table and chairs set.

"He is. Steve is pretty much the leader of the team-and you can see why. He's really friendly and understanding-not to mention he can do a lot of cool things with his Frisbee shield. Everyone here is pretty nice-once you get to know them that is." He was still in the process of getting used to the way things worked at the Avengers base himself.

"What happened to you after the battle?" she asked. "I mean, I know a few things, but I don't have the full story."

"There isn't much to tell. I was shot multiple times during the Battle of Sokovia; eventually, the bullets stopped my heart. I should have died, but through a medical miracle a group of doctors was able to save me. I'm assuming you read about that. Then I went find the Avengers in New York City. It was the only place I could think of to go. Everything I had ever known had gotten vaporized. I thought that everyone I loved was dead. I've been here ever since, trying to forget. Trying to move on."

"I'm sorry you though I died. I didn't mean to cause anyone worry...I don't know why I didn't contact you after all of that..."

"Maybe you didn't know my whereabouts, while everything was still so touch and go." Pietro was braiding a few pieces of grass together experimentally. They held firm under his gentle touch, solid and still. "I've been trying to think of ways we can jog your memory, since a brain scan obviously isn't going to work."

"What have you come up with so far?"

"I figured we could do things you enjoy, assuming you still do. It might trigger something-and even a little memory means progress."

"Sounds good. So, what did you have in mind?"

In answer he led her over to a bower of purple morning glories. "Flower crowns." He showed her how to carefully poke holes in the base of each flower and push a piece of string through. It took her a few tries and a few broken flowers, but she soon got the hang of it. Before long, she was threading flowers like a pro.

"We used to make these for May Day every year." Pietro explained. "We would make a lot of them and distribute them among our friends and the other people in our building. Occasionally someone would pay us a coin or two, but we never asked for anything of the sort. It was payoff enough to see everyone wearing them during the maypole dance later that night. We always went to see the maypole dance, no matter what-though we didn't participate in it ourselves. It was a very old tradition, but the people in our city still loved it. They held it every year in the center of town without fail. All those young woman and girls, dancing around with ribbons in dresses of satin and lace...secretly, I had always hoped you would join them one day, wearing a crown of snow white flowers atop your head." Looking at the finished crown of flowers he now held in his hand, he imagined someone wearing it as they danced and danced to their hearts content, weaving in and out of the maypole's ribbons. "Do you remember any of that?"

For a second he thought he saw a spark of recognition in Wanda's eyes as she strung the flowers and he wondered if she was remembering days when they had cut class early and taken the cable car out of the city so they could go into the fields on the outskirts of town and fill their lunch baskets with colorful flowers. He wondered if she remembered the hours spent lounging around in the soft grass, lying against sun warmed stones and dirtying their school clothes as they picked flower after flower for necklace after necklace...

By the next second, whatever he had seen or thought he'd seen was gone. Wanda shook her head and tossed her string, almost complete, to the hard ground. It lay forgotten as she stood up, wiping dirt off her hands. "No. I don't. We'll have to try something else."

~V102~

They spent the rest of the day outside, exploring the grounds around the base. They didn't talk much; they seemed to be content with their own thoughts.

At lunch (which happened to be Natasha's butchered attempt at grilled cheese sandwiches; all the Avengers took turns cooking but some had more success at it than others) Steve announced his plans for a big grill out. He sent out invitations to all the other Avengers who could be reached and could arrive at the base in the amount of time provided as well as a few important SHIELD agents. The idea was well received with the other members of the team and tasks were soon divvied out in order to prepare.

Pietro ended up being given the task of polishing the grill until it shone. Unfortunately, the grill was older than he was and covered in old char marks. Thankfully, he had Sam to help him.

Out of habit, he glanced across the yard to see Wanda meticulously arranging centerpieces on each of the tables Rhodey was setting out. "Does she seem to be adjusting well?" he asked as he worked at a particularly tough grease stain.

Sam nodded. "At least she's talking to us now. We're making progress."

"Yeah. I guess." But progress was slow in coming-and the memories were even more uncertain.

"How do you think tonight is going to go? I mean, it's our first time hosting a big party here."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. It had to be. This was Wanda's first big social event since she'd come to New York. Pietro wanted it to be special for her. If worst came to worst and she really did have to invent a set of new memories, he wanted the first ones she made to be good ones. Besides, so far the base had managed to avoid being blown up or destroyed in any way.

He kind of wanted to keep it that way. In any case, the grill out was certainly going to be interesting.

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	6. Right and Wrong

**On to the next chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

 **Enjoy!**

The guests started to arrive in the mid afternoon. Everyone who could be there was there-Pietro recognized a couple of Avengers from the old team, along with a few other SHIELD agents. He didn't know them personally, but Steve assured him they were Very Important People.

Tony and Pepper took a break from overseeing the construction of their new farm (still extremely modern and high tech) to join the festivities. Clint and Laura also made the two and a half hour drive, although they'd left their children behind in case the party ended up running too late. Most of the agents, like Maria Hill and Nick Fury, came up from New York.

Now, the party had been in full swing for house. It was full on dark now, yet it showed no signs of slowing down any time soon. The lawn was filled with agents swapping stories, drinking champagne, and eating grilled chicken fresh off the grill. The night glowed with the light of a million fireflies and the smells of chicken and corn filled the air.

Pietro and Wanda drifted through the crowd like ghosts, stopping here and there to talk to people they knew but mostly keeping to themselves. It wasn't that they were intentionally trying to be unfriendly; it had always been second nature to the twins to be more quiet and reserved. People tended to ask fewer questions.

For the millionth time, Pietro took his sister's wrist and gently turned it over so he could examine the bar code etched in black ink. He wished he knew how and where she had gotten it so he could personally kill whoever was responsible, but he'd quickly learned that the bar code was one of the off limits topics. Every time he brought it up, Wanda automatically seemed to close down. It was as though it brought up bad memories-though of course she had no idea what those memories might be. "Does it hurt?"

"No." Wanda pulled her wrist away and rubbed it subconsciously. "It's just ink."

They surveyed the party from a distance, unwilling to join in the revels-at least for the moment. "This is some party. And yet I like it better than Tony's. Tony throws…loud parties, with a lot of fine wines and drunk people." Every so often, Pietro would allow himself just a taste of the thick red wines-although he was technically underage. It messed with his head for days on end-and he always made sure to drink less than a shot.

Wanda nodded. Tony's parties were legendary in the Avengers base.

"We used to hate the Avengers." Pietro added. "We tried to destroy them."

Wanda looked up at him in confusion. "Why?" The Avengers had become (besides Pietro) the closest thing she had to a proper family.

"A robot named Ultron manipulated us. He took all the grief we felt upon the deaths of our parents and…redirected it. We became monster-his monsters."

"I remember scraps of things-bits and pieces of this and that. Nothing that connects, of course. Nothing that makes sense. But…was there a shipyard? Someplace very warm…with boats…and the team was there, too."

"Yes. They came to fight Ultron, who was there to buy vibranium so he could fuel his plan for global extinction. Eventually, we ended up fighting them too." It hadn't been Pietro's proudest moment, now that he thought about it.

"What did we do?"

"Oh, you know. I messed things up, punched a few people in the face. Nothing new. Nothing special."

"What about me?"

Pietro wished he had never brought up the subject. He didn't want her getting upset with herself over something she couldn't change. "Wanda, we were manipulated. We didn't know-"

"Tell me what I did, Pietro." Her Sokovian accent seemed to grow heavier, the way it always did when she was upset.

"Fine. You made the Avengers see their worst fears."

She staggered back a step, her face seeming to grow even paler than it already was. "I…did that?"

"It's okay. Everyone has forgiven you. No one holds it against-"

"I messed with their minds?"

"It was purely circumstantial-"

"Pietro, give me a yes or no answer. Did I or did I not make them see their worst nightmares?"

Pietro sighed. "Yes."

"I…need a moment to myself." She seemed to melt into the crowd, looking like she was going to be sick. Pietro tried to follow her, but she had managed to disappear. He sat down on the dewy grass-maybe she would come back if he gave it enough time. _Why did you have to do that? And we were getting along so well, too._

Some days it seemed like he just couldn't do anything right.

He'd known Wanda since the day he was born. They'd always been so close-now they were all that remained of their once happy family. At least, they had been. Now, they seemed farther apart than ever before. It was like they were on separate sides of a wall of glass-able to see and talk to each other, but not able to break through.

Pietro was beginning to feel that he never would.

~V102~

Wanda's heart was beating out of her chest and bile churned in her stomach as she pushed her way through the crowd. The scent of slow roasted chicken, which had smelled so delectable only moments before, now made her feel even sicker than she already was.

She passed Rhodey and Sam, who were talking to a group of agents she didn't recognize. Sam gently touched her shoulder to get her attention. "Are you all right? You look upset."

"Yes, I'm fine. I just…ate a bad piece of chicken." She barely managed to make it to a bathroom before she felt an overwhelming need to empty her stomach.

She had worked against the Avengers. She had literally _played with their minds._

Wanda stayed locked in the bathroom for a long time after she finished washing up, just thinking. Pietro had called them monsters-and he'd been right. She was a monster-and a freak.

Just then, she heard a knock on the bathroom door. "Wanda? Are you all right?" Steve asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." she lied unconvincingly.

"Did something happen?"

"No-"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Wanda sighed and opened the door. The least she could do was apologize-for everything.

Steve was in the den, seated on the couch even as the party reached fever pitch outside. He indicated that she take a seat next to him and waited until she was well settled in before he asked another question. "What happened? Pietro said you just disappeared. He's pretty worried about you."

"I'm sorry about what I did."

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"In Africa. I gave you a false vision. I did the same to some other members of the team. Pietro told me. I'm sorry. I feel terrible about-"

"Wanda, is that what all this is about? We forgave you long ago. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I was-"

"They were different circumstances. You were lied to and manipulated. Yes, we made some mistakes. We all do. It's nothing to get upset over."

"Yes, but…let's just say any mistakes you made are probably tiny compared to mine. I was on the wrong side."

"It's all about perspective. Sure, the robot trying to kill the human race isn't exactly the 'right' side so to speak, but you fought on behalf of your family and your country. A very noble cause."

"Maybe so-but I'm no hero."

"That's debateable. You played a role in the Battle of Sokovia. You protected the core-were willing to die for it-even at the expense of your own life. That's sacrifice. That's selflessness."

"You're just saying that. I can't even remember the battle."

"You will at some point. And I know how that feels. There was a little…incident seventy five years ago involving the tesseract, a plane, and some ice. I know how it feels to toe the line between life and death, to know that there's a chance you might die-maybe even a very good one. It takes courage-and if there's one thing everyone on this team possesses, it's courage. Everyone is misled at some point in time."

"Even you?"

"Even me. Don't worry about it, okay? I'm being serious now."

Wanda managed a smile. "I'll try. Thank you."

"Of course. Now, go enjoy the party."

She wasn't sure she could, but her heart felt a thousand times lighter as she stepped back outside to find her brother.

~V102~

The next morning dawned cold and rainy. Sheets of small water droplets pounded the windows of the Avengers base, but that didn't stop all of the guests who had ended up staying overnight from leaving in the cars and (occasionally) helicopters.

The twins joined the rest of the Avengers in saying goodbye to all of their guests. Pietro had so many agents that he couldn't remember all of them-their names had blended together until he was simply greeting a row of faces. Finally, the base had emptied out and the remaining Avengers were charged with the daunting task of cleaning up.

Pietro joined Wanda in wiping up any remaining spills from the night before. Most of the liquid was crusty and dry, but they worked steadily at it until, one by one, the stains were worked out. "What happened last night?" he asked. He'd finally caught up with her an hour after she first left, but she'd seemed different in a way he couldn't quite place.

She gave him a false smile. "The chicken I had at dinner didn't agree with me. I'm fine now."

"Are you sure? I can-"

"Pietro, I'm fine." Her eyes were clearly begging him not to press the matter-so, reluctantly, he didn't.

"If you're sure." He returned to scrubbing a particularly tough stain with renewed vigor. "You know, you can tell me if something is wrong. I want to help."

"I know you do-and you've helped me in more ways than you know. It's good to realize that there's someone looking out for me-but some things I have to work through on my own." Wanda cleaned up the last of the spilled, drink, silently hoping that it wouldn't stain, nodded in satisfaction, and then stood up. "Right then. I think we'll have the training center to ourselves for a little while. What do you say?"

Pietro nodded. "Sounds good to me."

~V102~

 _Ready…aim…fire._

Pietro pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet spiraled out of the gun's barrel, spinning towards one of the wooden targets that had been stationed at various intervals throughout the room. It embedded itself two inches to the right of the target and he swore loudly. He'd been so close…

"Nice shot." Wanda said, watching his technique carefully.

"I'm trying to hit the center. He'd been trying for weeks, but he just couldn't seem to do it. No matter what he did, the bullet always ended up curving at the last second and veering off course.

"You'll hit it soon." Experimentally, Wanda tested her powers and threw out a bit of red magic. The wisps hung in the air for a minute before they dispersed, undirected.

Suddenly she felt an odd prickling sensation at the back of her skull-then she realized she wasn't in the training center anymore. She was on a dusty street lined with people. The road was crammed with market stalls on both sides, along with vendors hawking their wares. _Fresh chickens here! Cold soda, only a buck!_

A little boy came running up to her eagerly. He had messy brown hair and a lopsided smile. Instinctively, Wanda knew he was Pietro-albeit far younger. _Let's play Tag, Wanda. You're it!_ He lightly touched her shoulder and took off, winding his way expertly between the people, animals, and carts of wares. She ran after him, laughing. He had always been faster than her but she was smaller than he was-she could crawl under things and hide in small places that he couldn't fit inside-so they were evenly matched. It didn't matter that everything else was so big and loud-even a little bit scary. She was smart, she was quick, and her brother was still in the marketplace. Sure, he was trying to hide from her, but she would find him eventually and they would reverse rolls. She trusted him.

He would never leave her.

Ever.

Suddenly, the training room came back in a rush of grey and white. She felt incredibly light headed and had to grab onto a nearby rack of swords to keep her balance as she tried to get her bearings.

Pietro glanced at her with concern. "What happened?"

"I remembered something."

His jaw practically dropped. "That's wonderful! What did you see?"

"Nothing big…I just remembered playing Tag in a marketplace." Already, the memory was beginning to fade around the edges-but she still treasured it. It was a momentous occasion. She'd remembered something. If she could remember even a little thing like that, there was a chance that she could unlock everything else, too. She just needed to figure out how-perhaps by trying more triggers.

And once she did that, things could go back to normal. She'd be able to figure out where her bar code came from-and most importantly, where she'd been for the last year.

It had taken a while to come, but she was finally making progress.

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	7. On Top of the World

**Sorry about the wait. It was just taking me a little bit to write this up.**

 **This is more of a filler chapter; things should start to get more interesting next chapter.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited! You guys are all awesome :)**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

"Are you ready to go?"

Wanda nodded, examining the car display in front of her carefully. Pietro ran a hand over the dashboard almost lovingly, fingering more buttons and switches than she thought would be necessary for an hour long drive into New York City. Of course, Pietro didn't have a car of his own so he'd had to borrow one from Tony Stark, who had driven up that morning to check on the new facility. Given the fact that it was Stark's car, it had a few…enhancements and upgrades along with the normal four wheel drive. Tony hadn't told them where the button for turbo engines resided-which was probably good given that Pietro was going to be driving. "I think so."

"Don't look so nervous. I'm a great driver. Granted, I haven't driven since my test last year, but not to worry. My instructor said I passed with flying colors." They practically flew out of the driveway with the squeal of tires on gravel. Little pebbles flew everywhere.

"You know, it would be nice if you could make it to the city in one piece."

"Don't you trust me? I will be fine."

"You're beginning to drift, Pietro."

"Oh, right." He corrected his trajectory just before the car smashed into a convenient stand of trees on the side of the road. Wanda was just glad there was no one else on the road with them. Things would probably go downhill fast, and the last thing the new Avengers team needed was a lawsuit.

"Watch out for that rabbit."

"Too late."

"Why are we driving a good twenty miles over the speed limit?"

"Because I like to go fast. Now just sit back, relax, and decide what we should do today." He handed her an entire sheet of brochures for various establishments-the Met, the United Nations building, the Empire State Building, and Central Park. They had a day off of training and they'd decided to spend it sightseeing together in New York City. Unfortunately, they hadn't had the time or the patience to plan too far ahead. They had tickets to a couple museums just in case and Rhodey had secured them tickets to a Broadway show later that night. Other than that, their day was completely and totally open.

"Why don't you decide?"

"Because I'm driving and I don't want to look at any brochures."

"Would you like to make suggestions?"

"I would love to make some suggestions, but as you can see I'm also driving and trying not to get us both killed."

"Fine. How about we start at the Met? That should take the longest. If we have time, maybe we can go to the Empire State Building or Central Park for a while until our dinner reservations roll around. After that, we have to get to the theatre. How does that sound?"

"Whatever you think would be best." Pietro seemed entirely focused on trying not to hit any more rabbits.

Wanda had to smile as she pulled out her book. She'd never been in New York for a pleasure trip and she was excited to see some of the things she'd only read about in brochures. _This is going to be fun._

~V102~

They began to see the city about fifteen minutes before they officially started to enter it. Pietro had his job cut out for him-not to cause an accident on the freeway.

Of course, they soon got stuck in a massive traffic jam. Pietro groaned as they crawled along at a snail's pace. "I hate this."

"That's New York for you. People everywhere."

"I know. In Sokovia, the traffic was always going out of the city-never coming in."

"New York City is just a little bit different than Sokovia."

They passed by a huge glass and steel skyscraper that towered into the clouds like a massive giant. "Yes. Just a little bit."

~V102~

After about thirty minutes, they managed to move past the initial crush of cars, find a place to park the car for the day, and enter the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Pietro had never imagined he would ever get here, to a place of this much fame and prestige. Even when he was just a little boy, he'd known it wasn't possible for him to do so. International travel was wildly expensive and his parents couldn't miss a lot of work. Yet here they were, ten years later with tickets in hand, being waved inside.

Wanda unfolded a map to reveal gallery upon gallery of fine art from all sorts of artists and time periods. It was overwhelming-there were so many things they could see that Pietro didn't know where to start first. "Should we start with Renaissance?" his sister asked, quickly taking charge. She'd always paid more attention in school and probably had a better idea than he did about what they were going to see.

"Sure." They passed through rooms of religious icons and pictures of angels and saints, all the while discussing their new team. Slowly, they worked their way through gallery after gallery of arts from all sorts of cultures. Pietro didn't recognize most of the artists' names but occasionally he saw a painting he'd seen in one of his art textbooks. Occasionally, Wanda would know the story behind the artwork and tell him about an ancient artist or an interesting technique.

It was midafternoon by the time they were finished. Pietro didn't think he'd be able to see another painting without his eyes getting burnt out of his skull. However, they had just enough time to visit the Empire State Building.

This late in the afternoon, they were able to relatively quickly catch an elevator to the top floor. The building seemed far more ornate than it seemed from the outside, paneled in more wood and precious metals than seemed strictly necessary.

But then again, everyone in New York seemed grand compared to Sokovia.

The elevator was filled with other people who also wanted to experience what it was like to be on top of the world.

"You ever been up to the top of the Empire State?" the man next to Pietro asked him casually. He had the practiced ease of someone who had made the journey up hundreds of times before.

"No. This is my first time." Pietro replied. "My sister and I are new to the city and we're trying to get around to seeing everything."

"You're in for a treat. I'm a lifelong New York resident and the view gets me every single time."

Just then, the elevator rattled to a halt on the top floor and the metal doors opened with a loud crack so everyone crowded into the elevator could file out. A minute later they emerged onto a small balcony high above the city. Everything was covered in an almost hushed silence, as if the entire world was holding its breath.

Almost reverently, Pietro stepped to the edge of the balcony and looked down-and down and down and down. The ground swam below him, filled with commuters on their way to their plays and dinner reservations. The cars and cabs that clogged the streets were smaller than his fingernail-so small that he could barely see them. Even most of the other buildings were below him; he felt like a king in a castle surveying his lands. Across from him stood the Chrysler building, all metal, chrome, and steel; beyond that the green expanse of Central Park, the blue river, and a sprawl of other buildings that covered the ground like a carpet as they jostled for space and precedence.

"This is amazing." Wanda said as she found a place to stand beside him.

"Yes. This was the tallest building in the world for a while." Pietro was reading straight from the flyer; he didn't know much about his new home, but he was determined to learn as much as he could. "Do you think I would get in trouble if I were to drop something from this height?"

"Probably. You're not seriously considering it, are you?" He was looking at the support screen with an almost contemplative look in his eye as if wandering whether or not he could pull off this prank.

Right. Because the last thing they needed was an arrest warrant from the NYPD for throwing things off the Empire State Building. What a great way to start off their lives as Avengers-and American citizens.

"Do you think I could get away with it if I just dropped a pebble or something?"

"No. Someone would see you and want to see some ID-and pretty soon they'd see that your driver's license is only valid in a place that was blown up last year."

"Fine." He took a step away from the railing, hands raised in mock surrender. "If you insist."

They stayed up there for a long time, feeling as if they were on top of the world itself. Eventually it started to rain and soon they were soaked through as wave upon wave of rain drenched them totally and completely. But it didn't matter. There was always something new to see and something interesting to point out.

Finally, Pietro pointed out Avengers Tower. Its solitary A blinked a bright red in the weak sunlight. "So what do you think? Can we live here-with them? Can we make it work?"

Wanda thought about it for a minute. New York City was so big-she felt like she'd just jumped into the deep end of a pool with barely any idea of how to swim. And yet she knew she couldn't give up now. She owed too much to the other Avengers-especially Pietro-to just leave everything behind.

Besides, even if she had wanted to leave, where would she be able to go?

She felt that, given enough time, she could one day call this city her home. Maybe not today or tomorrow-maybe not even in a year-but someday. "Yes. I think it will."

She was just starting to shiver when Pietro checked his watch and swore so loudly that a lot of people looked their way with disdain. "We're going to miss our reservation-and it took me forever to find us a table!"

~V102~

Luckily, the restaurant wasn't far away so they could walk instead of having to bring out the car and find another parking garage. The restaurant Pietro had selected for tem happened to be very high end-he felt more than a little out of place in his sopping wet clothes.

They were shown to a table near a large floor to ceiling window so they could look out over the buzz and bustle that was Times Square-even at six o'clock on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.

"Natasha says we're going on our first mission in a couple of days." Wanda said once they had placed their orders. "Breaking up a drug smuggling cartel in lower Manhattan. Apparently it's just routine."

"Yes. Sometimes I feel like they tink we know more about this than we actually do. I'm not really an expert at being an Avenger yet, although I'm trying. There was just never a need for it in Sokovia. Back home, you looked out for yourself. You couldn't care about anyone else-you couldn't afford to. If you so much as gave away an extra crust of bread, you would spend that night hungry. It's incredibly hard to be generous when you have nothing to give. I can survive on the streets. I've never had to fight drugs lords before. Do you think it's kind of the same thing?"

"I'm sure it will be fine." To be honest, Wanda was a little nervous herself-although she tried not to show it. "None of us are completely inexperienced. I've been remembering tings-little things, really-bit by bit."

"Like what?"

"What our father's coffee used to smell like on cold winter mornings-warm and sweet, comforting almost. It smelled like home. I remember our mother playing on the old piano we had in the apartment lobby. She played it every evening, didn't she? Even though the keys creaked like they could give out at any moment."

Pietro smirked. "We always worried she would break the piano-but a group of militants broke it instead. They used the wood to build barracks outside the city to house all of their rebels. The woman in the apartment next door tried to stop them, but they shot her right there in front of us. In my mind she was the first casualty of the revolt-though certainly not the last." He knew too many dead people.

They changed topics back to the upcoming mission for the rest of the meal. Some things were better left untouched.

Finally, it began to edge closer to performance time and they started making their way to the theatre. After a long and heated discussion that had ended up taking a lot longer than it should have, they'd decided to see Les Miserables. It was a short walk to the theatre, while Pietro rummaged in his pocket for their tickets.

"We should hurry. The show will be starting soon." Wanda said impatiently. She glanced longingly at the lit theatre lobby-which was a stark contrast to the gray and wet day outside.

"Hold on a second..." Pietro rummaged in his pocket for another minute until he pulled out a couple of bedraggled tickets he'd purchased that morning on his daily coffee run. "Here you go."

"They're wet."

"You can still read what's written on them." Pietro answered. "Come on. Let's go inside." He was eager to get out of the rain as well. He turned to go but noticed that Wanda wasn't following him. "What is it now?" He tried to keep his impatience out of his voice but he was soaked through and even starting to shiver a little bit.

Wanda shook her head and followed him into the lobby. "Nothing. Sorry. I just thought I saw something…" Surrepitiously, they both glanced out the window. Rain was still coming down in sheets, observing most of their view of the outside world.

"I'm sure it's fine.' Pietro said with a growing sense of disquiet. It was ridiculous. They weren't in any sort of danger…

So then why did he still feel uneasy?

He shrugged it off and chalked it up to an aftereffect of the rain. _She's just getting you paranoid. You're just seeing things that aren't there. It's fine._

"Did you have a good day today?" he asked as they found their seats.

She nodded. "Yes. It was….amazing. Especially the Met."

Just then, the lights went down and a hush fell over the crowd waiting with bated breath to see the play. Pietro could feel himself slowly relaxing as the minutes passed without any sign of hostiles. _Just a shadow. That's all it was._

He managed to enjoy himself for the play's first act-until he saw the figure watching them from the top balcony. It wouldn't have bothered Pietro all that much-except for the insignia carefully stitched onto the man's baseball cap.

HYDRA.

 _We have company…._

 **Like I said, this was just a filler chapter. Sibling stuff and all of that. Anyway, the action will pick up next chapter.**

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	8. Ambush

**New update (finally)!**

 **I'd like to say a special thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited. I'm glad to hear that you enjoy the story :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.**

 **Enjoy!**

 _How did they find us?_

The massive theatre suddenly felt too small, too exposed. At any moment, Pietro expected the roof to come crashing down upon them and HYDRA agents to swarm the room. There would be nothing they could do, and nowhere they could run. He shifted nervously, trying to get Wanda's attention. "Look up."

Surreptitiously, she glanced toward the balcony and shivered. "Who are they?"

"HYDRA. Do you know them?"

He expected to be met with confusion and a blank stare; instead, her eyes seemed to turn a few shades darker. "Yes. They've been trailing me since Ireland-and maybe even before that.""

"What do you mean?"

"For the past couple of weeks, I've felt this…presence. It never strays too far and it always stays close to the shadows-but I know that whoever they are, they're bad people. They're looking for me-maybe even for both of us. When we came to the base, I didn't sense them as much. I thought that things had changed. I didn't sense…them as much. But now…" She was already moving to gather up her belongings. "We have to leave. We're putting all these people in danger just be being here."

Pietro was inclined to agree. Muttering apologies to the people around them, he worked his way through the crowded rows of seats to the nearest aisle. If they could just get out without putting any innocent theatregoers at risk, he could grab the car and be on the highway in five minutes flat. They got a lot of odd looks as they passed, but he didn't care. _This is for your own good._

Once they reached the vestibule, he pulled out his cell and punched in Steve's number. Wherever the team leader had ended up was a loud and perhaps rowdy place; Pietro could hear loud music and people shouting encouragement to someone or something-most likely Rhodey, on one of his fool's dares. "Hey kid. Did you find your seats all right?"

"Yes, yes. That part went fine. But we have another problem."

There was a long pause and a cheer from the crowd went up as Rhodey swallowed an entire tablespoon of cinnamon. "What do you mean?"

"HYDRA is here."

"Do they know where you are?"

He looked up at the balcony. Empty. "I don't know. We're leaving the play now."

"All right. Get back to the base as soon as you can. Don't use the main roads and be sure you aren't followed."

"Don't worry. We'll be careful." He hung up quickly. Wanda was already halfway to the exit, waiting impatiently for him to catch up. And yet he still kept asking himself the same question, over and over. _How did they find us?_ They weren't super popular, like Tony Stark and Steve Rogers-who everyone recognized on sight. In fact, they hadn't even gotten one backwards glance the entire day. No, it hadn't been coincidence…HYDRA had known, somehow. They'd been prepared.

He took a deep breath, trying to block out the roaring in his head, and poured on the speed. Within seconds, he was at Wanda's side. "Do you see anyone?" he asked.

"No. Not in the vicinity." He could read between the lines. _That doesn't mean they aren't close._

He was just about to take off running with Wanda in tow when the world exploded.

Pietro felt himself being thrown backwards, hitting the ground so hard he blacked out for a few seconds. When he came to again at first he didn't know what was going on-he was looking up into the sky, at a night full of stars. But he shouldn't have been able to see the sky. He was still in the theatre…

And that was about the time he realized that the roof of the theatre had been completely blown off. The once lavish foyer was in shambles. Debris was scattered everywhere; scratches of ash marred pristine white marble and the concession stand was just a pile of dust. His clothes were covered in a white, chalk like substance; it hung in the air like a toxic fog that coated his throat and nose, making breathing painful and almost impossible. His eyes watered painfully and there was a deep gash and his arm-but it would heal with time. He just had to find Wanda and get out.

Speaking of which…

He glanced around the collapsed foyer in a panic, looking for his sister. For a minute he couldn't see her-and of course he thought the worst. Then he felt a hand close around his wrist and someone pulled him to his feet. "Can you stand?" Wanda asked in her thick Sokovian accent.

He nodded, trying to get his footing on the broken tile. "Are you all right?"

"I think so." She seemed to have been spared the worst of the damage; she was covered in powder, just like him, but Pietro didn't see any blood.

"What about all the people in the theatre?"

Wanda glanced across the wasteland of carpet and merchandising stands lying overturned and broken in the dim glow cast by a ring of nearby streetlights. People were emerging from the wreckage of the theatre; some were cradling injuries, others were almost crawling out of the debris field, and still others were being carried out on stretchers.

They weren't moving.

Pietro thought he was going to be violently ill. All this destruction-all this death-was because of him and Wanda. If they'd stayed at the base like everyone else, things would be very different. Lives might be saved.

There wasn't a shadow of doubt in his mind that the bomb had been meant for them.

He heard sirens in the distance, growing ever closer. Wanda led the way back to the car and slid into the driver's seat. "The police will be here at any minute. We should go before they arrive-I don't know how we're going to explain this to them. And if they know that we're Avengers…"

Pietro understood. It wouldn't be good for them or for the team. He could barely see straight; black spots kept dancing across his vision, but he didn't know if that was a result of an injury or just from shock. He shook his head to clear it. Wanda glanced at him every so often in concern. "Stay with me, Pietro." she said.

"They were trying to kill us-"

"I know. We'll find whoever did this-and they will pay dearly. I swear it. But right now we are outnumbered and outgunned-not to mention we're being hunted by invisible enemies. We have to tell SHIELD."

"We're a danger to everyone around us."

"I know." She was clutching the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white. "Should we leave?"

"What do you mean?"

"Leave now. We can take a back way out of the city-and we'll never have to go back to the base. We can drive out of town-maybe find a deserted forest or something, far away from the city and anyone who knows us. We can stay off the radar-that way, if anyone does come looking for us, the fight will just be between us. No innocents will have to be involved."

"You know we can't do something like that. We have nothing-barely any money, not many worldly possessions, certainly not enough to find our own place. We wouldn't survive for long." Still, it was an idea-and a good one to boot.

They drove in silence, without even the radio to fill the car with mindless chatter. Even when the city was long in the distance, Pietro never looked back. Every time he closed his eyes he could hear the screams and feel the explosion throwing him backwards…killing who knew how many people on sight.

And it was their fault. They had drawn HYDRA agents like moths to a flame.

After a while, Pietro's phone began to ring. Steve was calling back-and he didn't sound happy about being hung up on. "Where are you?"

"Forty miles from the base." Pietro said, checking his GPS. "Why?"

"Get here as soon as you can. Were either of you injured?"

"We're fine-just shaken up and covered in roofing dust. Did you hear about what happened?"

"It's all over the news. No one knows who to blame-terrorists, extremists, or possibly a third party."

"It was HYDRA. How many casualties are there?" The question had been on Pietro's mind since he'd gotten on the phone, but he hadn't wanted to ask. He hadn't wanted to know the answer-because he knew that whatever the number was he probably wouldn't like it.

"It's not a definite number-"

"Steve, how many casualties?"

"Twenty three-and climbing."

Pietro felt numb. "We should have helped. We should have done something."

"No, you did the right thing. If HYDRA wants you, as we both seem to think they do, they would have stopped at nothing until they had you-and that could have meant more people getting hurt. Stark is sending the Stark Relief Agency to help out, but you and Wanda are SHIELD's biggest priorities at the moment. We'll talk about this when you get back to the base."

"We're on our way." He clicked off the phone and put it away calmly, even though he was having a hard time thinking clearly. "Twenty three people are dead, Wanda-and that number is going up."

She looked like she wanted to reply, but just then a car pulled up next to them-complete with flashing lights and a siren that made Pietro think his ears were bleeding. A cop got out and walked over to them, scribbling something in a small black notebook. "Can I see some ID?"

"What did we do wrong?" Wanda asked as another car cruised to a stop on their other side. She gently nudged Pietro and nodded imperceptibly for him to open his door. Something wasn't right.

The cop was holding a gun.

He seemed to know his cover had been blown because he shut his notebook with a snap and said two words: "Hail HYDRA."

Pietro was out of the car in approximately half a second, only to find the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple. "Don't try anything fishy." the gun's owner said. "And keep your hands where I can see them." People in black were climbing out of three more cars parked on the shoulder of the roadway, surrounding them completely. On the other side of the car, Petro see that Wanda was in the same position as he was himself-but he wasn't just going to let this happen. He tried to catch her eye, as if to say _Should we attack yet?_

Wanda shook her head. _Wait._

A man wearing a black sweatshirt and a pair of sunglasses (at night) came forward and began to speak. "You gave us quite a little chase, Maximoffs. I suppose you thought that SHIELD could protect you-that their petty technology would be enough to stop us. By now I expect you realize that you were so very wrong. You can't hide forever-not when the nets we cast are longer and more far reaching than you can possibly imagine. We've been looking for you since Sokovia. And when we finally did have you again, you somehow managed to slip through the fingers of some of our best commanding officers. Would you like to tell us how you managed it?"

"What are you talking about?" Pietro asked. When had they been taken after Sokovia? Even with being in a coma and all of that, he was pretty sure he'd be able to recall something that important.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Maximoff, that Korean doctor managed to stay under our radar. You were 'out of commission', let's say, for close to a year. While that wasn't optimal, it turned out to be all right in the end-because we managed to recruit your sister instead."

Pietro stiffened. What the man was saying couldn't possibly be true…and yet pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. The bar code, the vanishing act…of course there had been a reason for all of it. Pietro had just never thought about too closely because there were too many other problems on hand. It made sense-but sense was really the last thing he was in the mood for.

Or perhaps he had known it all along but just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

Wanda shook her head. "You're lying."

"Am I? Don't tell me you've forgotten all the fun we had. You seemed to enjoy yourself-when you weren't bleeding out, that is."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't-but is the memory loss truly our fault? Or is it due to your own unwillingness to remember? Yes, we did terrible things-but they were necessary. They were all necessary."

"Stop it." Her pupils were starting to turn red; if the man knew what was good for him, he would stop right there and hope to God he hadn't gone too far.

Luckily, HYDRA thugs weren't known for their intelligence-only their strategy.

"You signed up for the experiments. And as it happens, the experiments aren't finished yet." Pietro could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins as he waited for Wanda's signal. He wouldn't just kill this man-he would destroy him. The head thug gestured to one of Pietro's guards. Come on. The boss will be expecting us."

"I don't think so." Pietro knocked the gun out of the man's hand at the same moment Wanda sent a wave of red magic radiating through the ranks of HYDRA members surrounding her. They all fell to the ground-unconscious or dead, Pietro didn't care much either way. The quick distraction was enough; while the soldiers tried to regroup, shooting off guns in all sorts of random directions, he was able to get to a car and hotwire it (growing up on the streets had taught him a few things). There wasn't time to deal with the head agent, but his time would come.

Just not tonight.

Wanda got in the passenger's side as the windshield was peppered with tiny bullets the size of hailstones. "Let's go."

"Do I have your permission to break the speed limit?"

"Go as fast as you need to-just get us out of here."

Pietro smiled for the first time since this whole dream had turned into a nightmare. "Now _that_ I can do."

He could hear the leader screaming behind them. "This is only the beginning! We will be back. You _volunteered_ to join HYDRA. You belong to us!"

"Not anymore." Pietro floored the accelerator and the car shot forward. It wasn't as nice as the car they'd been forced to give up, but it would work well enough for their needs and purposes.

Soon the agents were far behind them. Pietro doubled back a few times and drove for miles on a couple back roads before they reached the base, just to be safe, but they didn't see any other cars or people.

Finally he stopped the car at the turn they would take to lead them back to the base. "We have to talk."

"About what?" Wanda asked. She was fingering her bar code and wouldn't meet his eyes.

"That."

"Like I said, there is nothing to talk about. I can't remember where I got it."

"Are you sure? Are you truly not able to, or do you just not want to?"

"Pietro-"

"Tell me the truth. I think you owe me at least that much."

"Fine. Yes, I remember some things from after the Battle. Not everything. I can't give you names, places, or even faces. But yes, there are a few things I know about-a few unpleasant experiences I remember with surprisingly vivid clarity."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"You didn't need to know. It was irrelevant then-and it's still irrelevant now."

"Well, what exactly do you remember?"

She didn't answer. By this point, she wouldn't even look in his general direction.

"Wanda?" he tried again. "What happened last year? Did HYDRA find you again? Is what that agent was saying true?"

"Yes. I don't want to talk about it."

"How much do you remember?"

"…Enough. That's all I'm telling you about the matter."

"But what about-"

"Enough, Pietro. Just drive. Please."  
Reluctantly he nodded and turned up the gravel drive that led to the new Avengers base.

~V102~

"There you are! We were starting to worry." Sam said as soon as they walked inside.

"We got…sidetracked." Pietro answered.

"No offense, but you both look terrible. Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"We're fine." Wanda said. "I'm going upstairs. Please don't bother me unless it's an absolute emergency." She walked up the stairs that led to her bedroom without even a backward glance. Pietro very nearly swore in frustration. He knew he'd treaded on forbidden territory. He really needed to work on that-though it would help if he knew exactly what 'forbidden territory' comprised. His brain felt like it was working on autopilot, shot through with numbness and new information. Now there were memories his sister wasn't telling him about? His whole life had been a mess ever since he'd woken up. Just when he thought he was in the clear, something had to happen that shook his entire world to its core.

"What happened out there?" Sam asked as he poured cups of coffee for himself and Pietro. "We got a call from Maria Hill saying there had been an incident on Broadway-at first we thought you two were dead. Everyone else is in meetings right now, trying to figure out what to do." He looked at the way Pietro was stirring his coffee aimlessly. "You know, you can tell me what happened. It might feel good to get it all of your chest."

Pietro sighed. He'd just wanted this to be a nice night he could share with Wanda-and instead it had ended terribly. People were dead, they were on HYDRA's hit list, and now his sister was upset with him because he'd crossed into forbidden territory he hadn't even known was forbidden.

Perfect.

Before he knew it he was telling Sam the full story. "We ran into some members of HYDRA in the middle of the first act. It didn't go well…"

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	9. Movie Night

**Sorry about the long wait; this has been a really busy time for me. But anyway-here's the next chapter (finally)!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

"Hold still."

Wanda sighed and tried to keep her patience while a nurse bandaged her arm. She'd gotten a deep gash in it during the explosion-she hadn't even noticed it until the other members of the team had forced her and Pietro to sit through full medical examinations. "I'm fine."

Not true, of course. She didn't think she'd ever be all right again-at least not for a long time. But there was nothing else wrong with her physically, aside from a few scrapes she couldn't remember sustaining that would heal with time.

"Just a moment." The nurse assigned to her case pulled tightly, pressing the bandage into her skin so hard that it seemed to cut off all of her circulation. "There you go. You're free to leave."

Wanda barely managed to mutter a halfhearted thank you as she headed for her room. She wanted time alone-time to think. And she hadn't managed to get any of that in the eighteen or so hours since the explosion.

She passed Pietro in the hallway. He seemed to want to talk to her, but she ignored him. He wouldn't understand-and besides, she didn't really want to talk to him at the moment. She knew it was ridiculous, but she blamed him for what happened at the theatre almost as much as she blamed herself. They should have been on guard. They should have been ready.

The upstairs was quieter. There were fewer people-and fewer stares. She locked herself in her bedroom, tracing patterns into her quilt with the tip of her finger. She was lying to everyone, even herself-and it was getting hard to keep everything straight.

 _Work backwards._ Pietro had tried to push too far too fast. Of course, it hadn't been his fault. None of it was. How could he know how she'd react? She knew he couldn't, but she'd been so on edge that night that it had taken everything she had in her just to get out of the car and into the base before her magic exploded.

Just then there was a knock on her bedroom door, startling her out of her thoughts. It was Steve, and for the first time she could remember he was the last person she wanted to see. Thankfully, he didn't press. "How are you?" he asked, standing by the window so he could look out at the blue morning sky.

"I've been better. Do they have a final count on casualties?"

"Not yet. Some people are still missing…it might take three days or more to clear all the debris away. Wanda, you can't hold yourself responsible for this."

"Yes I can. It was my fault."

"No it wasn't."

"If we hadn't been there, HYDRA would have no reason to target that theatre. All those people would still be alive. Sure, Pietro and I didn't feel the blood on our hands, but we killed those people. If it wasn't for us, families wouldn't be grieving the loss of loved ones."

"Something like this would have happened sooner or later. We knew HYDRA was on the move. We should have been ready but we weren't. It's not anyone's fault. It just happened. Don't torture yourself and pretend that you could have done anything differently. This time we were too late to prevent casualties-next time, we won't be. We'll train as hard as we can and get eyes and ears all over the place. Should this happen again…HYDRA won't win."

"But what about all the people we lost last night?"

"I wish there was a way we could save them, but we can't. Something you realize pretty quickly when you become a superhero is that it's simply not possible to save everyone. Sometimes…you just have to move on. Not forget…not even forgive. But if you let the doubts control you, they'll tear you apart."

Wanda had nothing to say to that, fingering a tassel hanging from one of her pillows and passing it from hand to hand. Steve meant well and it was nice to know that she wasn't blamed by anyone else…but she wanted to do more.

She wanted vengeance.

"Good talk." Steve said after a few minutes of silence. "I have a meeting with some SHIELD officials in one of the conference rooms if you need anything." He left and Wanda was on her own again, the way she was most accustomed to.

~V102~

Dinner was a mostly silent affair. She avoided Pietro at all costs and left the table as soon as she could.

After about an hour of trying and failing to read her book, she heard a light knock on her bedroom door. Natasha stood in the hallway wearing a new leather jacket. "Come on." She walked down the hallway toward the rest of the base.

Wanda followed obediently. "Where are we going?"

"The training center. It should be empty at this time of night."

Curious, Wanda watched as she opened the quiet studio and stepped inside, closing the door behind them softly. A dim yellow light made pools on the smooth black tile floor as Natasha indicated a few targets and a wall of knives of various sizes and colors. "After a particularly hard mission, I always find that a little training does wonders to release tension." She handed her a small metal key. "Lock up when you're done."

"Wait-"

"Trust me. It'll help." With that, the Black Widow left-if Wanda remembered correctly, it was her turn to wash the dishes-and she had the training space all to herself.

She carefully selected a dagger lined in red. It looked particularly sharp; light glittered off its tip in the dim light. She took a moment to focus and align herself with the target before she let the knife fly. She watched it turn on itself, over and over as it flew through the air and bypassed the target completely, clattering off the stainless steel wall. Undeterred, Wanda picked it up again. She loved the way it rested in her hands-not too heavy, but light enough to inflict real damage. It made her feel powerful.

She threw again and again. Nine times out of every ten, her knives didn't even make it close to the target but she didn't mind. The whole exercise gave her something to think about besides the screams of theatregoers being crushed alive and moonlight glistening off the pale flesh of the dead. The sound of the knife as it took flight was like music to her, sweet and clear.

It was past eleven thirty when she finally locked up for the night. Natasha had been right-she did feel better. Not totally, but it was an improvement.

She took the knife with her just in case.

Wanda thought it would take hours for sleep to find her, the way it always did. It had never come easily, even before the accident-half remembered memories intermingled with nightmares; most nights she awoke breathless, sweaty, and tangled in her sheets. Sometimes Pietro was there to calm her down-he seemed to have a sixth sense for these kind of things-but more often she had to pace for hours before her heart rate returned to normal. However, sleep came without provocation for once-and with it blissful unconsciousness.

~V102~

The base was nearly deserted the next morning. Steve and Pietro had both gone on jogs-Steve in the country while Pietro preferred a run in the city, where he could easily bypass all the traffic that was typical of New York City on a Monday morning. Sam and James were playing video games and Natasha had locked herself in the training room to 'find herself', in her own words. That left Vision.

Wanda didn't know much about the android. From what she'd managed to piece together, he'd been sent to find her at the end of the battle when it had become clear that the city would have to be vaporized. He hadn't found her-at least, not in time. They didn't have occasion to talk much; she figured this was as good a time as any to change that.

"Hello." she said, pulling up a chair next to where he sat at the breakfast table poring over a newspaper.

He seemed slightly startled to see her, but he was still very courteous. "Good morning, Miss Maximoff. I trust you had a nice night?"

"It was better than most. What about you?" Vision didn't seem to need sleep, perhaps because he was a machine. Usually he seemed to wander the base reading anything the other members of the team had left lying around and watching television. He had a lot to catch up on when it came to being human.

"I watched a very interesting television show called _The Walking Dead._ Are you familiar with it?"

"No, but I think Sam and Rhodey watch it." She hadn't had time in the last few days to watch much of anything. "How do you like the base?"

"It's very secluded-a good place for the base of operations for an elite superhero team."

"I'll say." Yet Wanda still wondered if they were truly safe here. HYDRA was still out there…it was only a matter of time until they caught up again.

But SHIELD would see them coming. They had to.

"Why are you avoiding your brother? He seems quite upset about it."

Absentmindedly, Wanda fingered the scar that ran up her back-red and deep. It still oozed blood if she pressed down too hard. It wasn't the only one, nor was it the worst. Some of the scars seemed only a few weeks old while others predated them by years. They were souvenirs from nightmares she could only half remember in dreams of pain and blood.

And injections. There were lots and lots of injections.

"It's complicated." she replied, pouring herself a cup of black coffee. _He wants to understand, but I don't want him to._

Vision seemed to get it-or at least he didn't pry further. "He wants what he feels will be best for you."

"Yes, but does he really know what that is?" Considering Wanda didn't even know what she wanted for herself, she would be willing to bet good money that Pietro didn't either. "I don't know what I want anymore." And what she did want was impossible-she wanted to go back to how things were before, where it had been just her and Pietro and they'd known each other better than anyone else. They didn't need anyone else-it was just the two of them against the world. "I'm going to take a walk."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

She was almost tempted. "I think I'll be fine for twenty minutes or so." She pulled on a jacket against the early morning chill and stepped outside. A light breeze ruffled her hair and a bird sang nearby but otherwise she was alone.

She set off, wandering aimlessly and trying not to think. Whenever she thought about things too carefully she either got a headache, lost control of her magic, or both. Sometimes it was better to just pretend she was floating and untouchable.

 _Increase the dosage. The results aren't matching up._

She shook her head to clear it. _No._ She wouldn't think about that. What was past was past. It couldn't haunt her if she didn't allow it to.

That night, Steve suggested a movie night. Of course, no one argued about the chance to get free popcorn-especially because the Avengers had managed to amass a collection of almost every movie known to mankind and they had plenty to choose from.

"I vote the twins pick out a movie." Sam said once they'd been debating for twenty minutes and made absolutely zero headway.

"No, I don't think that's such a good-" Pietro was interrupted by a clamor of support for Sam from all the other Avengers. After that they didn't have much of a choice-the base was run like a democracy most of the time and there was a clear indication of popular opinion. So, reluctantly Wanda followed her brother into the movie closet.

The walk in closet was filled wall to wall with Blurays and DVDs-most of which Wanda had never heard of before. Sokovia only got the top blockbuster movies-if they were lucky. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to see a movie in the theatre-or the last time she'd seen a movie period. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." Pietro grabbed a case off the shelf at random. "Have you even heard of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ anyway?"

She examined the case and put it back. "No."

"I never said-"

"I hope you weren't thinking it either. Did we ever see _Lord of the Rings?"_

"I don't think so. Let's just make this a lot simpler and take it." Pietro grabbed the case but didn't make any move to step outside. "You know, we have to talk about this at some point. You can't avoid me forever. Sure, the base is big but it's not that big."

"I'm not avoiding you." Total lie of course, but what was she supposed to say?

"Then what are you doing? I'm not an idiot. You think I can't tell when you leave a room just because I come in? Believe me, I know what's going on. I just want to know why. What did I do to upset you?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Stop prying."

"You don't even have to tell me everything if you're not comfortable with it. I just want to help-"  
"If you really want to help me, let me keep my secrets."

"Believe me, keeping it all locked away inside yourself won't do any good. I've tried. I've tried to keep things in and pretend they aren't bothering me-but they always, always, _always_ find a way to escape. Somehow, some way, your demons always manage to bring you down when you least expect it. If you don't want me to press, that's fine. I won't. But stop pushing me away. Stop pushing us all away. We can't be a team if we don't act like it-"

"Who says I even want to be an Avenger? I don't have anywhere else to go or anyone else to turn to. I never committed-and now I'm wondering if I should just leave before someone else gets hurt."

Pietro sighed. "Don't do that. Fine. Be that way. But I just want you to know that you have a family here, whether you realize it or not. A family that cares about you. I didn't believe it at first, but it's true. They've proved it to me time and time again. They're good people, and we can trust them." He held the movie like some people might hold a bomb. "I remember when we used to tell each other everything. We didn't have any secrets. We told each other all of our dreams, fears, memories…there wasn't this wall between us that I don't know how to break. I want to break it, but I don't know how."

"Neither do I. But maybe we can try." Maybe she could try for his sake, if nothing else.

Wanda gently probed the edges of her mind as she gingerly took a seat next to Steve. She knew she hadn't been good company that morning.

She sifted through all the familiar memories at first-there were only a few of them, far fewer than there should be, but she had them-and that was the main thing. Carefully, she probed at her mental 'wall', for lack of a better term. She could feel it shift but it wouldn't give. It remained stubborn; she hated it. _Fine. Be that way._ She pushed harder, until her head began to hurt and she grimaced against the sudden pain of a migraine.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked as he passed her the popcorn bowl.

"Yeah. I'm fine." She ground the heel of her hand into her forehead and willed the pain to go away. It was clear she would make no more progress that night. Instead she settled back to watch the movie, grabbing a handful of popcorn almost absentmindedly. Despite what she'd told Pietro, it was nice to feel wanted-even if her team happened to be the Avengers.

At least it was better than being alone.

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	10. The Summons

**Hey guys-or anyone who's still reading this. So, I know it's been a super long time since I updated this story. I guess the only excuse I have is that I got super busy-especially once school started again. I just had a lot going on and a lot of other stories I was writing and somehow this story got shoved to the side.**

 **I really want to finish it-especially because it will eventually go through Civil War and it would be nice to have it all wrapped up by the time the new movie comes out. That's the goal. We'll see. Anyway, here's the first new chapter in a (very) long time.**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**

 **Enjoy!**

The days at the Avengers base began to settle into a sort of familiarity. There was training in the morning and free time in the afternoon for the team's members to do whatever it was they did all day before dinner and team building exercises in the evenings. There was always something to do and someone to meet. Wanda was never bored. She just didn't have the time for it. She even began to feel the memory loss less acutely. Sure, it was still there-a hole in her head where something should be but wasn't, and a matching hole in her heart-but she could still function.

Pietro was almost always with her, directly or indirectly. She didn't mind. His presence was comforting in a way. She knew that he truly cared for her even if there was still plenty she didn't remember. It returned in bits and pieces-slowly but surely.

This was the state of things a couple of weeks later, when Natasha slapped a newspaper down onto the breakfast table and causing the rest of the team to look up from whatever they'd been doing for the past twenty minutes. The headline blared up at them: _Who's to Blame for Sokovia?_

Steve sighed. "Another one? It's been a year now."

"Apparently they're still looking for someone to point fingers at." the Black Widow replied sullenly as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"What are they suggesting this time?"

"That the Avengers take responsibility for their actions. Sokovia was decimated, as we all know-"

"That wasn't our fault. If the Avengers hadn't been there we wouldn't have a world left to save." Pietro replied.

"All of it could have been avoided if Stark didn't create that robot." Natasha replied. "I think the government is sick of having to clean up our messes. When the Avengers do something, they aren't exactly subtle about it."

Sam read the rest of the article over her shoulder. "They wanted us to fly to Washington and appear in front of the legislature?"

Natasha sighed. "Apparently so. Not for a couple of weeks though. We still have time to figure something out."

Wanda could guess what that meant, and why the other Avengers seemed so against the whole idea. The team had been formed as a last ditch attempt to save the world in a time of greatest peril. It wasn't a team that was meant to be controlled by the government or told what to do and who to save; the Avengers worked for the good of the world, not the ideals of a single country or group of people. Leave it to Washington to screw up their neat little system. "What are we planning to do about it?"

"It's the government." Steve said. "Do we really have a choice?"

The fact of the matter was that they didn't. Whether they liked it or not, the Avengers were going to the nation's capital.

~V102~

During the morning's training session, Natasha went even harder on Wanda than she normally did. Usually Wanda could last against her for at least ten seconds-but not today. Almost instantaneously the ex-assassin would find a way to grasp her wrist and flip it, sending her flying into the mats scattered somewhat haphazardly over the training center's floor. Wanda hit the ground again and again until she felt something snap inside her kneecap and found she had trouble standing.

"Sorry." Nat said. "I guess I went a little overboard."

Wanda managed a smile. "It's fine. Really."

"Can you stand?"

She tried but her leg gave out under her and she almost fell-barely managing to catch herself on the rock climbing wall. "I don't think so."

"Shit. You might want to go to the infirmary and get that checked out."

"That might be the best idea." She got to her feet a little more carefully this time, shifting from foot to foot and trying to find the best way to put weight on her leg without causing it more pain.

"Can you walk on your own?"

"Of course." Not that she would tell anyone if she couldn't, of course.

She'd never been in the infirmary at the Avengers base before. Sure, she'd been in the clinic sometimes for various sprains and the like but she'd never been in the infirmary proper. It looked just like she'd imagined it would-the walls had been painted a sterile white and the room was well stocked with that seemed like enough gauze and bandages to care for a small army. She took a seat in one of the chairs arrayed on either side of the room and waited for the medical professional Natasha had said she would call. There were a few who lived just down the road from the base; all had different day jobs and different types of clearance and all were on call 24/7 in case of an emergency. Wanda didn't know if a sprained tendon qualified as an emergency, but Natasha had been adamant they get the injury checked out so Wanda wouldn't injure herself further before the rapidly approaching mission.

It didn't take long for Steve to find her and take a seat in the opposite chair. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, looking almost guilty as he watched her massage her knee. "Nat told me what happened-"

"I'm fine. Honestly."

"She know not to use moves like that in a non-combat zone."

"It's been a rather…stressful morning. I can't say I blame her."

He sighed, massaging his temples like he had a headache. "Don't I know it. So, what do you think about all of this government-interfering-with-the-team business?"

She looked away. "I don't know what to think."

"I should have done something after Sokovia. There were all sorts of articles and TV interviews…at first they praised the Avengers and their heroics, but the media can be very fickle. Once the initial hype died down, they started to point fingers. People were dead, thousands were homeless, there was a huge hole in the center of Eastern Europe-a lot of people were really ticked off. We went underground, in a way. Fury's orders. No public appearances. No explanations. No excuses. But I should have done something-I'm the leader of the Avengers. What's the worst SHIELD could have done? Killed me? They wouldn't have. People would riot and the media would have a field day. But I followed orders like a good little soldier, I let all that resentment and hostility build up…and now we all have to pay the price."

"Don't say things like that. You couldn't have known-"

"I should have guessed. This is how things start: conflicts, hostilities, even…in some cases…war. I've seen it before. I suppose I just wasn't ready to confront things yet."

"We'll figure this out. We'll go to Washington, do whatever we have to do-play our roles, answer whatever questions the lawmakers want us to answer-and hopefully that will be it. Hopefully they'll leave us alone."

"And if they don't? People can be frightened of what they don't understand-and let's face it, we aren't exactly normal."

"We'll just show them there's nothing to be afraid of."

Just then the door opened and a woman with blonde hair holding a small medkit walked in. Steve stood up automatically and nodded in acknowledgement. "Sharon."

"Cap. Long time no see." She took a seat in the chair the Captain had just vacated and held out a hand for Wanda to shake. "My name is Sharon Carter, agent of SHIELD. I'm a nurse as my day job. Let's see what we're dealing with here."

"I'll get the rest of the team caught up." Steve said as he turned to leave. "How long are you going to need, Sharon?"

"Not long." she replied. "At least try and enjoy yourself."

He laughed humorlessly before he closed the door behind him with a soft click. "I'll try."

Sharon did a thorough check of Wanda's knee before she made her diagnosis. "What did Nat do to you? It looks like you tore a ligament."

"We were sparring. It didn't go well."

"I guess not. Well, the good news is that things look a lot better than they could be. Stay off that leg for the rest of the day and you'll be just fine tomorrow-but no more strenuous stunts. Ease back into it."

"We have a mission in a few days. Will I-"

"As long as you don't do anything stupid. Then again, you don't strike me as the kind of person who does stupid things." She started to pack up and shook her head as if she was still in shock about something. "Wanda Maximoff. Wow. They told us you'd been found but I think we all believed on some level that they were lying. It's been so long…Doesn't matter. I'm glad you're here. The team hasn't been the same since Sokovia. One dead, one missing, and one with such bad injuries no one was sure whether or not he'd live through the week? They weren't doing so hot."

"I'm worried about Steve. He's taking all of this government business upon himself-"

"He always does. He'll be fine, Wanda. Steve is a born leader. One of his gifts is his ability to shoulder more burdens than any person should."

"He shouldn't have to."

Sharon sighed as she closed her bag with a small click. "No one said the world is fair. Call if you need anything; Nat has my cell phone number."

"I'll walk you to the door-"

She smirked drily. "Nice try. Didn't I tell you to stay off that foot? Don't worry-the base isn't that big. I'm pretty sure I can find my own way out."

~V102~

"This is a sniper rifle. Hold it, see how it feels-but don't fire."

Pietro passed the weapon from hand to hand, feeling its weight. "And why can't I fire?"

"Because of the recoil." Natasha replied, moving the targets forward that were positioned on every side of the room. "I don't want you to fall over." He sighed and shifted from foot to foot impatiently. He tried to be a good student, he really did; he just resented having to sit through lecture after lecture about the way guns worked when they were really, in essence, all the same-cock the barrel, aim, and fire. But still Natasha insisted on walking him through every step like he was a toddler. Wanda got to spend the day upstairs watching Netflix while she kept her foot iced; he was beginning to think he would give anything to be able to go watch TV with her because shooting practice was getting so tedious. It had nothing to do with his innately overprotective big brother instincts at all. Certainly not.

"Pietro, focus." Natasha said, showing him how to hold, load, and fire the gun so many times Pietro was sure he'd be able to do it in his sleep.

He nodded and aimed at the first target, taking a moment to center himself before he cocked the rifle and fired. The bullet hit just below the center of the target's wooden frame.

"Sloppy." Natasha critiqued. "You're better than that."

He tried again with much the same result-then again and again. Nothing changed. For some reason he just couldn't make the bullets go in the direction he wanted them to go. Finally, Natasha had to click the safety on his gun once he'd emptied half a cartridge just to get him to snap out of it. He practically threw the gun to the ground in frustration. "What do you suggest?" he asked half mockingly. "Aim higher? Slow my heartbeat so I can focus? It's not working, Romanoff! None of this is working."

"Why don't you start by taking five?"

He sighed but complied, taking a sip from his water bottle. "Why is it so hard?"

"You're not centered. What are you thinking about just before you pull that trigger? What do you imagine?"

"What makes you think I imagine anything?"

She rolled her eyes. "Everyone imagines something-at least until they train themselves not to."

"Fine. I pretend that every one of these targets is a member of Hydra. I imagine that every time I fire that gun I'm picking them off one by one-the one or two or ten or fifteen that are still coming after us." His mind flipped to its favorite topic for pondering; the one that was most likely to keep him awake at night. "Do you think it's true? Did they capture her after the Battle of Sokovia and we just didn't realize it?"

"I don't know. I'm in the dark about all of this, just like you are. I know _something_ happened to her last year. She's not the same woman who messed in our heads back on that ship…but I don't know why she changed. I don't know just how much she remembers and how much she just isn't willing to tell us for whatever reason-but I believe that whatever happened wasn't exactly a picnic for her. If her brain really is shut down because for whatever reason she can't or won't remember those memories…I'd say they're very bad." Pietro looked like he was going to protest but Natasha kept on talking. "But I don't think it's necessarily something to worry about. Wanda is adjusting just fine-and once she's ready to tell you just what's going on inside that head of hers she'll let you know. Until then, don't pry. Don't make it any harder for her than it has to be. She's going to be fine. Besides, she's strong. We both know that."

He nodded.

"Now," she continued, "you need to work on the images in your head."

"What should I be imagining instead?" he asked, his voice brimming with ill-disguised curiosity.

"Nothing." Natasha replied just as calmly. "You should be imagining that target as just a target. Nothing more, nothing less. Don't get cocky, don't get emotional. Keep your heartbeat steady-at least, as steady as it can be under the circumstances."

"That won't be a problem at all." he said sarcastically, though he was smiling as he reloaded the gun and aimed again, taking a moment to focus. He glanced through the scope at the little red dot in the center of the target. It was just a dot…just a simple little dot…

He pulled the trigger. The little metal ball arced through the air and embedded itself in the wooden target with a soft pssh. Not a bullseye but pretty darn close. Natasha nodded once, as close to approval as she got. "Better."

Pietro rolled his eyes. "Don't shortchange me. Most people wouldn't be able to hit the target the first day-much less the center."

"Most people-but I don't believe you're most people, Maximoff."

"I suppose not." Most days he didn't know for sure whether that was a good thing or not.

They had target practice for about twenty more minutes; Pietro never got a bullseye but all his shots were consistent, which Natasha maintained was just as good. "We'll practice more tomorrow. Go see your sister. She's probably bored out of her skull.

~V102~

As it happened, Rhodey and Sam were trying to teach Wanda how to play Star Wars: Battlefront.

"Is that a stormtrooper?" Sam asked, pointing to a blur of black and white on the top of a fabricated ice mountain on the other side of the screen.

"Shoot it." Rhodey said, looking like he wanted to cringe at Wanda's terrible aim but was managing to restrain himself. "Or shoot…anything. That works too."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't spend more of my childhood breaking into homes to use their video game counsels."

Rhodey had already stopped listening, preferring to focus on the stormtrooper that had managed to sneak up on Wanda's rebel trooper. "Shoot him!"

"Shit." Wanda muttered as she pressed random buttons on the controller. The shot went far off course and the stormtrooper was able to get in a few good shots. The screen blurred a dull grey before it faded to black and the words Game Over flashed across the screen.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Sam said as her legacy stats scrolled across the screen. "You did better than you did last time."

"By about two minutes."

"Two minutes is still progress."

Pietro took a seat on the couch next to her and watched the television with interest. "What are you playing?"

"Not much. Just a shooting game I'm comically bad at that's still interesting enough to keep me playing-and getting shot repeatedly. How was weapons training?"

"It went better than I expected. I'm a very good shot. Someday I'll have to teach you."

"Someday soon." Steve replied, coming in with a data pad in his open hand. "We still have a date with that drug cartel-and we ship out in three days."

~V102~

"This is the team arsenal. It has everything a team of elite superheroes might require to save the world. Take whatever you need." Sam said, punching a key code into a small pad near the side of the door and sitting through a retinal scan just to be safe. Two metal doors swung open on silent hinges to reveal a surprisingly small room that was filled to overflowing with all manner of weapons, fake IDs, and various types of other combat gear.

Wanda could have taken twenty minutes just to look everything over but she crossed the room and grabbed one item automatically. She shrugged into the red leather jacket with a sharp flash of recognition and a small smile. "I believe I lost one just like this in Sokovia."

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	11. First Mission

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**

 **Enjoy!**

Three days later, Wanda was awoken at about five in the morning by a sharp knock on her bedroom door. "Rise and shine!" Natasha called. "We leave in twenty minutes. If you're not on the Quinjet by then, we leave without you!"

She practically fell out of bed, trying to remember exactly why she was being roused at such an ungodly hour. And then she remembered that this happened to be her first ever mission.

The rest of the team ate breakfast in a tense silence. There was no sign of the usual banter and offhanded chatting that so often characterized the Avengers' mornings; everything was still and quiet. The others called a hello to her as she grabbed a couple of waffles hot off the griddle but no one said anything.

"Does everyone know what their jobs are?" Steve asked, taking charge of the situation like he always did. Of course everyone knew what to do-they'd only gone over the plan a thousand times the night before and ten thousand times in the days leading up to it. "There's no need to be nervous. You're all well prepared and I have no doubt you'll fight like real heroes." He met each of their eyes, pinning them in place with his stare. It could have been wishful thinking, but Wanda thought he looked at her longest of all-blue eyes blazing into brown. "All right? Let's go."

She considered throwing up as she joined the flow of people heading for the Quinjet and an uncertain future.

~V102~

They landed outside a huge grey warehouse as the first rays of pink sunlight colored the horizon like a bruise. Sam piloted the aircraft to a smooth landing half a mile away, setting it down in a quiet forest clearing as everyone else started to suit up. Weapons were stashed, jackets were zipped, and the back of the jet filled with a low murmur of voices. Everyone was at least a little bit nervous, even those who weren't on their very first mission. This was their first time working as a cohesive team; anything could happen.

"Lighten up." Steve said as the landing ramp hit the soft grass with a low thunk that seemed to reverberate through the aircraft. "You've all been training. You all know what to do. It's going to be fine."

"Easy for you to say." Rhodey said, pulling on his face mask. "Captain America."

"He's right." Natasha shot back. "Now let's go out there and do what needs to be done." She hit the ground running and everyone else had no choice but to follow. It was a quiet morning-too quiet. Pietro took each step forward with extreme caution; the last thing he needed was a cracked stick and a hive of angry cartel members on their tails.

Rhodey swore through the earpiece; he'd been sent ahead with Vision to establish a perimeter. "We're going to have company."

"How many?" Steve asked calmly. He didn't even sound fazed, though Pietro's heart felt like it was about to forcefully punch its way out of his chest.

"More than twenty."

"Call down. We can handle them. Just remember to dig in-and don't shoot to kill until it's absolutely necessary."

They hit at once like a wave of black costumed marauders and soon the air was filled with gunshots and bursts of laser fire. Pietro could barely see what was going on; all he knew was that if something moved and he didn't recognize it he was supposed to try his hardest to knock it out. One man and then two went down with a couple of quick punches and sprawled on the floor unmoving. "Nice job!" Sam said, high fiving him as he swept someone else out of the way with his metal wings. "Looks like you're a natural at this."

He shrugged. "I'm just trying my best."

They fought their way through the onslaught and into the warehouse proper, where moments before people had probably been going about their normal business stacking boxes of illegally acquired heroin and cocaine to be distributed on the black market. Now that the Avengers had arrived, they were all running around in disarray like a flack of headless chickens. It was almost too easy to corral them into one corner; they all seemed to cooperate once they knew just who was involved with the infiltration.

"Are you going to kill us?" a woman with short brown hair asked as she kept her hands in plain sight and her eyes trained nervously on the large gun situated on Rhodey's left shoulder.

"Not if you do exactly what we tell you to do." Natasha replied. "And answer all of our questions truthfully and promptly, of course. Where did you get all of this?" She gestured to the stacks of crates that surrounded them, nearly reaching the ceiling.

For a while, nobody said anything. They all looked at each other as if daring the others to break the confidence of their employer.

Steve sighed. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can tell me who you work for and I won't call the police. I know that some of you are undoubtedly here because you have no other choice-maybe you need the drugs, maybe you need the money…I don't know for sure, and to be honest I don't need to know. I don't want to have to call the police and have you all arrested, since I know some of you probably have families at home, but you need to cooperate. I'm giving you a second chance, and it's already running out."

There was another minute of tense silence before someone cracked-a man not much older than Pietro with wide green eyes and a face that looked like it belonged in a commercial for a beach resort in Hawaii. "We aren't the main base of operations."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked. "Who is?"

"We don't know his name. He just sends people twice a month to check up on us and make sure we're filling our quota. He's the one who buys everything. We just get the products ready to distribute."

"Where's the main base?" Natasha cut in.

"There isn't one." another woman replied. "He likes to keep his operations spaced out so that if one of them is compromised people like yourselves won't be able to find the rest." She glared at them as if their discovery of the base was a personal slight.

"Then where is his office?"

"It's worth more than our lives to tell you that. He'll find out-and he'll kill anyone and everyone who told his secrets."

For a while it seemed they were at a stalemate. No one said anything-until Steve nodded once. "I understand. I'll expect you to tell me if you hear anything that could be of interest-and if word gets back to me that you've ever been involved in anything like this I'll have the police on your tail before you can say the word 'busted'. Do I made myself clear?" Everyone nodded numbly and he turned to leave. "Oh-and consider this business shut down. Completely. I'm calling the police to deal with the rest of the drugs-you have approximately fifteen minutes to get out of here before they arrive."

~V102~

The Avengers regrouped back in the Quinjet, all in a celebratory mood over the success of their first ever mission. No one had even been hurt during the fight; all things considered, the whole thing had been a great success.

"Great job, everyone." Steve said once they were at a comfortable crusing altitude of 10,000 feet and heading back to the Base. "I didn't expect anything less."

"Are you all right?" Pietro asked out of habit as he dug his iPad out of his bag and took his usual seat beside Wanda so they could watch the sky passing by outside.

"Of course." she replied flippantly. "That was easy."

"Good." He clicked on the Netflix icon and waited impatiently for it to queue itself up. He hadn't had Netflix in Sokovia of course, and he still wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to survive without it for so long. "So, what do you want to do when we get back?" It was still midmorning; they had the entire rest of the day to themselves.

"I don't know. I might read-I haven't finished anything new in a while." There was just no time to read on top of the rest of their very busy lives. "What about you?"

"Sam wants me to go running with him. He says he knows this little café where they make the best protein shakes on the face of the planet."

"It sounds like you'll have a great time." She gave him one last smile before pulling out her own book.

As he settled in with _Breaking Bad,_ Pietro finally felt like a real Avenger.

~V102~

"Ready?" Sam asked, pulling on his running jacket and a pair of new white tennis shoes.

"Yeah." Pietro stood by the door, shifting from foot to foot impatiently. "Does it always take you this long to get ready to go for a jog?"

Sam gave him The Look. "As a matter of fact, yes it does. Not all of us have super speed."

"Point taken. I'll meet you outside."

In about five minutes (that felt more like ten to Pietro) they were ready to go and heading with an easy jog down the thin gravel path that connected the base to the main roads. "Promise you're not going to do any funny business?" Sam asked. "I have to put up with enough of it from Cap as it is."

Pietro laughed. "Don't worry. I'll try to go slow." Unfortunately, his 'slow' was little more than a crawl. "So, I'd say the mission went pretty well."

"Yeah. I've seen missions go a lot shittier. Nice work-you and your sister both."

"Thanks. You didn't do so bad yourself."

"Thanks. This was your first time in the field, right?"

"Yes, other than Sokovia-and that was under extraordinary circumstances. I wasn't really sure what to expect."

"You learn pretty quickly that missions usually go one of two ways-they're extremely easy, like this one-or someone ends up severely injured." Pietro noticed how he didn't use the word 'dead'. "Looks like you two are going to be pretty heavy hitters."

He shook his head. "Wanda sure-but I can't really do much besides run fast."

Sam laughed. "You'd be surprised how many people wish they could do what you do. Running faster than the speed of sound is nothing to shake a stick at. How do you like being a part of the team?"

"It's amazing. It feels like we're finally doing what we signed up for all those years ago." They were finally saving people. They were finally making a difference. "There's just a huge blank spot in my memory from that year I spent in Korea." Things skipped directly from the Battle of Sokovia to the first day he'd woken up at the clinic; even now it was incredibly hard to believe an entire year had passed. Another Super Bowl had been played and won, some movies he'd been eagerly waiting to see were on Blu ray and DVD…and he remembered none of it. It was like nothing had ever happened to him in the first place.

"That's rough. Do you guys get up at night sometimes? I hear you in the kitchen sometimes, making tea or something."

"Sorry. It's…with the nightmares-"

"No, I get it. I have plenty of sleepless nights too. I served two tours in the Air Force myself-and I was a paratrooper. I've seen plenty of things myself that no one should have to see."

"I'm sorry-"

"Have you tried milk in your tea? Calms you right down."

"I'll have to try that next time."

"Anyway, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. I'm just saying that I know how you feel. Sometimes life hands you…shit and there's nothing you can do about it except try to move on."

"Don't I know it." They jogged in silence for a while; there seemed to be nothing else to say after a revelation like that.

Finally Sam stopped at a little wooden store set back a ways from the road. On closer inspection it was a combination of coffee shop and all-purpose general store. Half of it was crowded with chairs and simple wooden tables while racks of sweatshirts, camping supplies, and even a few plastic beach toys competed for space on the other side. A weathered wooden sign above the cash register proudly proclaimed IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE. "Here we are." He walked right up to the cashier and said "Two protein shakes, please." He flashed his Avengers card, causing the girl behind the cash register to stand up in a rush to fill his order.

"Being a superhero certainly has its benefits." Pietro remarked, taking a seat by the window.

"That it does." Sam laughed as their shakes were brought out. "I figured you could use a little normalcy before this whole government fiasco starts."

"I don't even want to think about it." The whole thing just seemed silly to him-if it weren't for the Avengers, everyone on the entire planet would be dead-shouldn't that be enough to absolve them of all charges?

"Maybe things will work themselves out." Sam tried unconvincingly.

"Yeah. Maybe." They talked for another half hour about more innocent topics until Sam checked his phone and decided they really should try to get going if they wanted to be back before dark.

"You know what, Maximoff?" he asked as they jogged back through the gathering darkness. "You're really not so bad."

Pietro grinned. "Neither are you, Wilson. And you know what? You were right. That really was the best protein shake known to man."

~V102~

"Senator Raymond? There's someone here to see you. He says he has an appointment?"

Theodore Raymond-known as Theo to his close friends and political constituents-looked up from a stack of paperwork on his desk curiously. He didn't remember any appointments scheduled for the afternoon hours. "Who is he?"

"That scientist from the European company." his newest personal assistant, Fritz, said as he scrolled through tabs on his iPad. "He says he's quite excited to see you."

Suddenly the pieces clicked. "Oh yes. Send him right in." Fritz nodded and left.

He was back in about ten minutes with a man that had close cropped brown hair and eyes that were practically sparkling with excitement as he shook Theo's hand. "Senator Raymond, it's so nice to finally meet you! I've heard so many good things, about how you're never intimidated by the…uglier side of Capitol Hill." He suddenly paused and sighed loudly. "My apologies. I've almost forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Nicholas Fisk."

"Nice to meet you as well." Theo pulled out the papers Fritz had dropped off that morning. "Impressive resume you have here, Mr. Fisk. It looks like you've worked all over the place."

"Indeed I have." he replied proudly. "Though I consider it a special honor to be able to work for a member of the United States government. I feel I can gain experience here that I could find nowhere else in the world."

"That's true, at least."

"I was hoping I could bounce a couple of ideas off you, if that's all right."

Theo glanced at the clock above his desk. "I suppose we have time."

Nicholas smiled brightly as he unrolled a long blueprint that seemed to show some kind of building. "Good. In that case, let's get started."

~V102~

Ten minutes later, a single man walked out of the Senator's office. Nicholas faced forward, eyes on the ground, as his brown business shoes clicked across the Capitol building's tough marble floors. No one in any of the tourist groups that crowded the lobby gave him so much as a backward glance; he gave a nod to the security guards on duty and left without a fanfare.

Once outside, he walked a ways down the National Mall before he took a seat on a small bench in front of the Air and Space Museum. Watching groups of children come in and out, he pulled out his phone and dialed. "Mr. Zemo?" he said, keeping his voice low. "The plan was successful. I'm in."

 **I don't know how Marvel is going to introduce Baron Zemo in** ** _Civil War,_** **but I'm going to imagine that he'll be acting behind the scenes, pulling the strings, things like that. My knowledge of Marvel comics is very limited and I don't know anything about his comic book version so if anything about him in this chapter or chapters to come is inaccurate, that's the reason why.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	12. Reading

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**

 **Sorry about the formatting; I think it's fixed now. Enjoy!**

It felt like simply too nice of a day to stay inside. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky and the temperature was perfect-not too cold but not too hot. Wanda tried to read inside for a good twenty minutes before giving it up as a lost cause and taking everything inside. She'd discovered the small grass path that wound its way down the property to a small glade ringed by trees and sporting a pool of water as smooth as glass one of her first days at the new base and she'd been waiting for a chance to go back. It seemed like a nice place to forget things-like the upcoming trip to Washington and whatever they might find there.

As the day began to lengthen into nothing but shadows and bits of fragmented light she gradually became aware of someone else on the path walking towards her. She watched the entrance to the glade curiously, powers on alert-but immediately relaxed when she saw it was only Steve. "This is a nice spot you've picked out." he commented, taking a seat next to her on the soft grass.

She shrugged. "I just wanted a quiet place to read."

"Looks like you found one."

"You could say that. So, why are you here?" He would have expected he'd be sparring with Natasha; that seemed to be all they did nowadays. It seemed like they were preparing for a brawl rather than a diplomatic meeting. She had to wonder if it was some kind of coping method.

"I took a break. Sparring gets tiring after a while-especially when you already know exactly what moves your partner is going to use against you."

"I would have thought you'd never truly know what she'll pull on you." She sparred with Natasha almost every day and the master assassin still managed to find ways to surprise her.

He laughed. "Sometimes she just isn't in the mood to be creative."

Even though he was smiling, Wanda got the feeling he was miles away. "You're worried about something."

"How can you tell?" It was clear he thought she was trying to look into his mind.

"It's obvious. You don't even seem like you're here."

"Sorry. There's just a lot going on-like today's mission. It's obvious we're missing _something._ That wasn't just some drug cartel. Those men and women were willing to face a lifetime of imprisonment just so they wouldn't betray their employer. All the cartels I've tangled with have never had a level of loyalty like that-it has to come from fear. Which means we missed a major detail. And sooner or later, we're going to regret it."

"Why didn't you push harder? We could have had them all arrested-"

"But that wouldn't have been a good solution either. Those people were scared and desperate-and none of them wanted to be there. They didn't deserve years in prison. No, I think we did the right thing…I just hope we couldn't have done more."

"You second guess yourself far too much."

"I've seen what happens when people aren't careful. People get hurt. Sometimes they even die-and I'm not going to lose anyone else."

"You don't have to do this alone." she said, for a lack of anything better or deeper to say but knowing that she wanted to do something. "You have an entire team at your back."

He smiled almost sadly. "I appreciate that, Wanda-but I'm the leader of the Avengers. Whatever happens, it's my responsibility."

"You might not want to do that where Pietro is concerned."

She actually got a laugh out of him.

They sat in silence for a while, watching as the sun set over the tops of the trees and bathed everything in a golden glow. The day's many events were just starting to catch up to Wanda; the morning ride in the Quinjet felt like a dim and distant memory and the exhaustion was really setting in. She tried not to yawn, but it didn't work. "It's been a long day." Steve replied easily.

She nodded. "You know, I'm sure you'll figure out the cartel. They can't cover their tracks forever. Not from SHIELD."

"Right." The very first stars were beginning to show in the night sky, like it had been jabbed with straight pins to reveal the world of light underneath. "You know, I was never able to see this many stars in Brooklyn. The light pollution drowned out almost all of them. I actually prefer being in the country in some ways; it's quieter, and nothing seems quite as important as it really is-but there's certainly no place like home."

She nodded. She knew exactly how that felt. Unfortunately, her home couldn't be reached by a thirty minute car ride-or even a thirty hour plane ride. Nothing was left of the nation that had once been Sokovia except for a hole in the ground and a few million tons of displaced dirt. "I heard you've been looking for a place there."

"That's the idea."

"Have you found anything so far?"

He shook his head. "It's just not practical right now when the new team is still training. Maybe someday…then again, that kind of life just isn't for me."

"You're not looking to settle down and start a family when this is all over?"

"Is this ever really going to be over? Natasha says I should go on a few dates and test the waters before I make any definitive decisions-she has a whole list of people picked out-but I just don't think it's possible to have that as a reality anymore. After a while you just need to realize that things aren't going to work out. I'm about seventy years past the wrong decade."

"What about Sharon Carter? Everyone says you'd be good together."

He laughed. "You're starting to sound just like Nat. Sharon has other boyfriends-and besides, she has too much of her grandmother in her. Every time I see her I see, on some level, the Peggy Carter I used to know. I worry that I would only fall in love with her because she reminds me of the person I lost."

"Depressing."

"It's not so bad. You know, you should meet Peggy sometime-I told her about you when everyone assumed you were dead. I'm sure she'll be happy to know that you're a part of the team. But enough about me. What about you? Have you ever been romantically involved?"

She shrugged. "A couple of boyfriends here and there, but nothing serious."

"You're young. You'll find somebody."

She had to laugh at that. Sure, she had her entire life ahead of her-but she was also a twenty one year old with the power to pick apart grown men's heads like cotton candy and make them cry. Yes, she was _totally_ going to find her significant other. "It's not for me."

He took her hand, incredibly gently. "Then that's fine too." She loved the way he made her feel normal for a while, like she was more than a freak of nature.

She yawned loudly and leant her head against his shoulder; surprisingly, he didn't pull away. "This is nice."

"Yes, it is." he replied, shifting against the bark of the tree he'd been sitting against so she would be more comfortable. "Have you ever gone stargazing before?"

"I can't say that I have. I can pick out the Big Dipper and maybe Orion-but other than that my knowledge of astronomy is very limited."

"Lucky for you I'm a little bit of an expert."

"Just a little bit?"

"Well…maybe I'm being modest." He pointed to a cluster of stars right above his head. "That's Cygnus, the swan constellation…" He started to talk about the story behind the myth, his voice soft and even and utterly calming.

She felt she could have stayed there forever, safe under the stars.

~V102~

Steve had just finished explaining the legend behind Cassiopeia when he realized Wanda was no longer listening. Somehow he'd managed to put her to sleep.

He didn't really mind-she was obviously exhausted-but it left him with a dilemma. She obviously couldn't stay out here in the gathering darkness but he was also hesitant to wake her up. She was sleeping peacefully for the first time in at least a week but probably more. She looked completely relaxed; the worry lines that seemed to reside permanently between her eyes had finally smoothed themselves out and she finally looked calm. He wasn't sure exactly what he should do-so he ended up picking her up as gently as he could possible manage and carrying her bridal style as he re traversed the path that led back to the base.

The den was empty as he passed through, for which he was grateful. This wasn't exactly the kind of thing he wanted to have to explain to people. Unfortunately Natasha was sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee; obviously his luck couldn't last forever. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw them but she didn't say anything-just jerked her head toward the doorway as if to say _We'll talk later._ He didn't meet anyone else as he reached Wanda's bedroom door and gently set her down. She woke up on her own, blinking the sleep from her eyes and looking around in blatant confusion. "What-"

"You fell asleep." Steve explained almost sheepishly. He'd never been good at this sort of thing. "I figured you probably wouldn't want to spend the night outside, so…"

She seemed to cover from her initial disorientation quickly enough. "Oh. Thank you. That was…very kind of you."

They stood in somewhat awkward silence for a while until Wanda cleared her throat as if gathering all her thoughts. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Of course." he replied quickly. He turned to leave, but she called him back before he could.

"Steve?"

"What is it?"

"Thank you for telling me about the stars. I'm just sorry I fell asleep on you. I didn't mean to-"

He laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'm so glad you enjoyed it." He gave her one last smile and left, ignoring the fact that his heart seemed to be beating just a little bit faster than normal for no reason he could discern.

~V102~

"So." Natasha said casually as soon as Steve came downstairs to make himself a cup of tea. "You finally took my advice."

He blushed profusely. "It wasn't like that. You shouldn't be drinking coffee this late at night. You won't be able to sleep."

She shrugged. "I stopped needing sleep a long time ago. But we're not talking about me."

"We're certainly not talking about me."

She rolled her eyes. "You looked very cozy. What happened? You two never showed up for dinner-Pietro looked like he was about to blow a gasket."

"I apologize. We got to talking and then lost track of time."

"You were out for about three and a half hours, believe it or not. I'd say you _more_ than lost track of time. So, when are you going to ask her out?"

"It's not like that, Romanoff. We're just friends."

"Maybe I would have believed that this morning. Now…I'm not so sure."

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe _you_ should find a date. Then you can stop matchmaking every couple you see."

She laughed. "I'd be open to that. Unfortunately, I'm in the same boat as you-there aren't many people who want to date a spy who can kill them while they sleep. Besides, I'm still holding out for Bruce. He'll come back…when he's ready." Sure, he'd been MIA for months now but the team hadn't been able to write him off just yet. He could still show up. After all, Wanda had supposedly been dead and she was decidedly very much alive. "You're cute together."

"Are you ever going to take my word for it when I tell you we're just friends?"

"Not that I know of."

The tea started to boil and he gladly took the initiative to stand up and pour himself a steaming cup. "You can think whatever you want to, Natasha. That doesn't mean it's the truth."

"You'll come around." she replied. "It might take a while, but you will." She was practically smirking; Steve just rolled his eyes and took his tea out on the back patio where the hot liquid would actually do some good against the slight breeze that could be very persistent even on summer nights."

"Sure, Natasha. Whatever makes you happy."

~V102~

"You're late."

Wanda sighed as Pietro pulled up Netflix on his iPad and sprawled across the couch under the window like he owned it-even though he was in her room. "I wasn't aware I had a curfew."

"Well, you do now. What were you doing?"

"Reading." It seemed better not to mention Steve; no matter what she told him his mind would jump to an insane conclusion that wasn't true.

"That's a long time to spend reading."

"It was a very interesting book."

He looked at her carefully, as if running her statements through his own personal lie detector. Apparently they all checked out because he nodded once and stood up. "Fine. How much longer are you going to be up?"

"Not much longer. Why? Are you controlling that, too?" She hadn't gotten much sleep in the past forty eight hours and she was nothing short of dead on her feet but she couldn't sleep just yet. She was too busy turning everything over in her head-the mission, the flight back, stargazing with Steve…and how he had carried her back to the base. He hadn't needed to; he could easily have woken her up. But he hadn't-and she found that especially kind.

Then again, some things were better left not analyzed. She was probably looking at it all wrong anyway-and she wasn't going to go searching inside his head to find out for sure.

Pietro laughed as he closed the door between their adjoining rooms. "Good night, Wanda."

"Good night, Pietro." She read for another twenty minutes before she got ready for bed and turned out the lights.

She went to sleep almost instantaneously once she'd made up her mind to do so. There was none of the usual lying awake for hours waiting for her thoughts to stoop racing. Night was when usually when her brain became most active, keeping her up until all sorts of ungodly hours-usually, at least.

Somehow she knew she wasn't going to have a single nightmare tonight.

~V102~

She had to be lying to him. There was no way anyone could conceivably read that long-at least, he couldn't believe she could. Something was going on that he wasn't privy to. Pietro had to admit this wasn't a good feeling.

The base was quiet at two in the morning; it provided a sharp contrast to Avengers Tower, which had never truly been silent what with all the beeps and clicks from Tony's various devices. However the base was situated in the middle of nowhere-in what Pietro sometimes called the last bit of unspoiled wilderness in the entire state of New York. It was a perfect place to have a Netflix marathon.

He'd started with _House of Cards,_ forayed into _The Walking Dead_ and _Breaking Bad,_ and had just resolved to catch up on _Dr. Who_ when the overhead lights flickered to life in a sharp blaze of white. Sam stood in the doorway watching him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Watching television." he replied calmly. "Care to join?"

"Do you have popcorn?"

He indicated the bowl on the table. "There's another one in the microwave."

"Sold." Sam took a seat in the recliner seat next to him and turned the lights back off. "What are you watching?"

 _"Dr. Who._ Ever seen it?"

"Nope. Sounds interesting, from what I've heard about it." He sighed, watching as the opening credits rolled across the screen. "I'm guessing you couldn't sleep either."

"No way." He said, turning back to watch the show. He almost never could-but watching television wasn't too bad a way to ward off the insomnia.

In fact, it was almost starting to feel normal.

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	13. Welcome to Washington

"Rhodey, where's my copy of _The Fall of Giants?"_

"Why do you think I have any idea where your book is?"

"Because you were the last one to see it." Sam replied accusingly, rolling his eyes as he shoved another book into his already packed suitcase.

"I gave it back two days ago."

"Then why don't I have it?"

Pietro smirked as he watched Wanda try to zip closed her own bag. "Are you sure you don't need to take something out?"

"I'll manage." she replied, pulling hard on the zipper and silently coaxing it to give anther few inches while Pietro tried not to laugh. "Are you packed?"

"Mostly." It had taken him a long time to go through his wardrobe and find clothes to take. It was his first time in the nation's capital and he was very excited to see all of the monuments and museums that had been a part of Washington DC for time out of mind-though he wished they could have been going purely for recreational reasons. Instead, he would be heading to the legislature to battle for the team's freedom. It was anything but a pleasure trip. "Natasha wants us to be on the plane as soon as possible."

She glanced out the window at the undisturbed summer morning. "Is the plane even here yet?"

"No, Tony's running late. But when he does show up she wants wheels off the ground in no less than ten minutes."

With a final yank that threatened to tear the zipper clear off the suitcase Wanda finally managed to close it properly and sat back on the bed triumphant. "Steve says we'll have time to go sightseeing after we arrive. I can't wait to go to the National Gallery."

He rolled his eyes. "You seem to be getting very cozy with Steve these days."

"And what's wrong with that?" she asked quickly. "We're just friends."

" _Just_ friends?"

"Yes. There's nothing else between us." He still wasn't convinced. They went on walks together in the evenings, out behind the base. But he didn't want to press. The last thing he wanted was to start another fight-they'd been getting along so well lately but he knew that any little mistake could easily break her trust. He sighed inwardly. It used to be that they would never get into fights; they could always tell instinctively what the other was thinking, built on a relationship of mutual trust, understanding, and shared memories. Now he never quite knew what was going on inside her head.

"Fine, fine." he sighed, grabbing his suitcase with one hand and hers with the other. "Do you want me to take this downstairs for you?"

"Thank you." she said with a small smile. "That would be lovely."

He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. "You know, if you ever need anything you can always tell me."

"I know. Don't worry." She gave him a last, almost carefree smile, and walked downstairs. Pietro hadn't seen her so happy in months. If Steve had this much of a good effect on her, maybe whatever was going on between them wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Just so long as it didn't progress. He had to have some kind of standards.

There was a loud whirring noise from outside the window and he looked to see Tony's large and extravagant private jet land on the front lawn in a whirl of light and sound. It was huge-about the size of a small city as far as he was concerned. "Wow."

"That's called luxury." Natasha explained, standing next to him at the window. "Tony doesn't do anything halfway."

"Obviously not. Is everyone else ready to go?"

She nodded. "Washington DC, here we come."

~V102~

It took no less than an hour to make sure the plane was loaded and ready to go. Even when everyone's assorted suitcases, valises, and other pieces of luggage had been stowed safely in the plane's cargo hold. Tony insisted on touring the base and seeing exactly 'what his billion dollar investment was being used for'. "How's it going, Speed?" he asked Pietro almost jovially, clasping a hand on his shoulder that could be considered almost fatherly in another lifetime. "Excited to get a little fresh air?"

Pietro nodded. "Should be interesting. But aren't you worried about the trouble on Capitol Hill?"

"Not particularly. It's all bureaucrats looking for a way to screw up trouble. When nothing happens it'll all blow over." He shrugged noncommittally. "You see it happen all the time. And how's your sister?"

"Better."

"Does she remember anything?"

"More and more every day. She's almost back to normal."

"Anything about where she's been for the last year?"

"I don't know. Either she doesn't remember anything or she just doesn't want to tell me."

"She'll come around. They always do."

Just then Rhodey came back with a couple bottles of Coke and passed them out to Tony and Pietro. "Ready to get going?"

Pietro nodded, taking a long swig of soda. "Bring it on."

~V102~

Riding on a private jet was a lot of fun; Pietro would give it that. Tony seemed to have every kind of entertainment system available to man above 10,000 feet; no less than three plasma screen television sets, a PS4, and a collection of Bluray discs that rivaled even the Tower's. There wasn't time to watch a full movie before they landed in Washington but they had fun streaming Youtube videos off Tony's iPad. Vision seemed especially fond of Jedi Cat videos.

Pietro also spent part of the time playing cards with Wanda on a leather couch. They both knew a lot of games; they started out easy, with solitaire, before transitioning to gin rummy and mahjong. Natasha even showed them how to play Yahtzee, which was a lot of fun until they lost three dice in between the seats.

It took them about an hour and a half to fly from Syracuse, New York to the private airfield just outside Reagan International Airport where Tony left his jet. By the time they arrived, it was starting to get dark-which meant they had a beautiful view of the sunset over the Washington Monument but not enough time to really go sightseeing. Steve suggested they find a place to get pizza for dinner and get settled in their hotel rooms for an early start the next morning.

"Here's your ride!" Tony said, revealing a stretch black limousine.

Steve groaned. "Tony, we can't possibly-"

"No. Everyone knows the Avengers are coming-and they'll expect you to come in style. We need to show the Senate and the House of Representatives that we aren't scared of them or their accusations. We need to make an impression." As no one wanted to argue with that, everyone piled into the car.

Only to find out that there were about ten pizza places in a ten block stretch of downtown DC.

"Anything we can rule out?" Rhodey asked tentatively, scrolling through TripAdvisor. "I think there's a vegan place on the corner. No one here wants that, right?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Yes. You can cross out the vegan place."

"We need to decide where we're going tomorrow." Sam said. "This _is_ the busy season."

"Assuming we make it through the meeting first." Pietro replied. He waited for Wanda to reprimand him and say he wasn't being positive enough but it never came; she was too busy looking out the window at the city around them. Almost everywhere Pietro looked he saw something out of one of his old history textbooks-the Washington Monument far in the distance or the White House surrounded by its many fountains. "What are you looking at?"

She shrugged. "Nothing in particular. Everything, really." He knew exactly what she meant. New York was an amazing city, but Washington DC was filled with history.

Why couldn't they make a nice little vacation out of this? Pietro couldn't think of another superhero group in the entire world that deserved it more.

~V102~

After a quick dinner at a random pizza place Rhodey found on Yelp, they set up camp at a hotel downtown. The suites Tony had purchased for them were large and spacious, each with two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. Sam and Rhodey shared one, the twins shared another, Steve and Vision had a third, and Natasha got the final suite all to herself. Pietro wanted to stay up until all sorts of ungodly hours watching movies but Wanda convinced him that wouldn't be the best idea considering they would be appearing before the most powerful governing body in the entire country.

"Are you two going to need anything else?" Steve asked, practically hovering in the doorway

Pietro shook his head, already immersed in his book. "Not at the moment."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow morning then." He smiled at them both, thought Pietro knew it was meant more for his visitor's benefit than his own.

"Have a good night." Wanda replied as he slipped away quietly and shut the door behind him.

"So, how do you think things will go tomorrow?" Pietro asked, looking up from his book.

"I don't know. Sokovia may have been a mistake, but the Avengers _did_ save the world in the Battle of New York. They can't forget that."

"They seem to be planning something."

She shivered. "I just hope they don't make a terrible mistake."

"They're the government of the United States. This is probably just a routine thing to get the media off our backs. Maybe then we'll stop getting so much bad press."

She still looked unconvinced-and to be perfectly honest, neither was he. But it wasn't as though they could do anything about it either way; it was too late to go back now and refusing to attend the meeting would cast them even further into suspicion. "Perhaps. Steve thinks there's something bigger going on-not just this, though that's no doubt a big part of it. He says it has something to do with the factory we infiltrated."

"I think Steve is just as nervous about this as we are and wants to come up with a theory so he doesn't need to think too hard about whether or not we actually deserve what's coming to us. None of us want to think about that.

She nodded and stood up with a sigh. "Good night Pietro."

"Good night." He didn't stay up too much longer himself. He wanted to be at full energy the next morning, come what may. And he couldn't help thinking that whatever the outcome of the meeting happened to be, the Avengers team would never be the same.

~V102~

"Phase one of the plan is in action." Nikolas Fisk said taking a seat at the table with the rest of the inner circle. "The Avengers landed in downtown DC earlier this evening."

"Excellent." came the voice from the intercom system. For reasons of security his employer never attended any of these meetings personally; if anything happened to be infiltrated or compromised it was better for ten or eleven underlings to die rather than the head of their entire operation. "Did you face any opposition?"

He shook his head, knowing Zemo would be able to see the motion anyway. He learned from experience that Zemo seemed to know everything about everything-even if you hadn't told him yet. "They suspect nothing."

The man sitting at the head of the table-the meeting leader-pulled out a simple manila file folder and began to page through it almost lazily. "These numbers are extraordinary. What a pity the subject left before we finished our experiments." Nikolas instinctively felt ten pairs of eyes swivel toward him. He would have cringed, if hadn't been sure that would showing weakness. Everyone knew that Wanda Maximoff had escaped HYDRA custody due to his inability to monitor her whereabouts. He knew full well that this was his last chance; if he failed now he would lose not only his position but probably his life as well. And everyone else knew this too.

"We _will_ get her back." he said confidently. "We'll be able to complete the experiments."

"I certainly hope so." Zemo replied. "There is much we have left to learn. However, I will not be so cocky. She's an Avenger now. Things will not be so easy from now on."

He resisted the urge to clench his hands into fists. "I will not fail you again."

"Good. I would hate to dispose of you too early." He could hear the threat plainly in his words. "But enough of that. We must discuss how to proceed. Fisk will work on securing our test subjects but the rest of us must balance tasks that are no less important. We must find an effective way to turn Earth's Mightiest Heroes against each other."

"That shouldn't be too hard." someone else replied scornfully. "We've seen the way Ironman and Captain America bicker among themselves like children."

"The Avengers are an outdated symbol." another person commented. "I say we do away with it all together."

"Such a direct approach will not bode well for us. They will figure out what we are up to and destroy everything for which we have fought and suffered."

"I agree." Zemo replied. "Subtlety is key. Our plans are put into mission tomorrow morning. Is everyone clear on their roles?" Everyone looked at each other carefully and nodded as one unified body. This was important; they could not fail. There simply were no other options.

"Good." the Baron continued. "Meeting adjourned."

 **I apologize for two things-the time between updates and the short chapter. For the former, I've had a really busy week and for the latter I can only say that they'll get longer from here on out. The next chapter will start to get into the Civil War plotline.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	14. The Sokovia Accords

The Avengers were up at the crack of dawn to get ready for the press conference. Sam ordered Dunk 'n Doughnuts for breakfast as a special treat-along with more coffee so everyone would be more or less able to function. Despite the initial hectic rush of trying to get ready and not being able to find various tubes of makeup and curling irons, by seven thirty everyone was (mostly) ready to go and they were on their way to the Capitol building.

"It's too early." Pietro muttered, gulping another cup of coffee in an attempt to stay awake. "Whoever came up with the idea of an eight o'clock meeting should be fired."

"Do the best you can." Steve replied as they drove along Pennsylvania Avenue. "And if you think you can't add anything constructive to the conversation, don't say anything at all."

"You're nice."

"Everything is going to be fine." Natasha replied from behind the wheel, subtly pressing down harder on the gas pedal. "We'll be finished by noon, we'll get something to eat, and we'll hit a museum before it gets too dark. How does that sound?"

Pietro didn't answer. He was too busy trying to focus on not falling asleep.

~V102~

Being an Avenger had taken Wanda to many amazing places over the last few months-but she'd never in her wildest dreams imagined that she would end up here, on the steps of the United States Capitol. Especially after the Ultron fiasco. And yet here she was, walking beside Steve as they waited for Natasha to park the car.

"You look nice." Steve said quietly, seeming intent on examining the concrete beneath his feet. They'd all had to wear their nicest clothes; the boys had bought suits, Wanda had found a dress to wear for the day, and Natasha had been coerced into wearing a skirt. She'd drawn the line there and no amount of threats had been able to change her mind.

"Thank you." she replied. "So do you."

"Thanks. So, do you think they'll let us off easy?"

He shrugged. "It's hard to say at this point. A lot of people were displaced in the attack on Sokovia, there were billions caused in property damage…not to mention that fact that an _Avenger_ was responsible for the entire thing. The world is understandably going to demand justice-and the odds aren't exactly stacked in our favor."

"Have you been here before?"

"Several times to receive medals for my years of service. Never to paint me as a criminal."

"This isn't your fault."

"It's really starting to feel that way."

Just then Natasha walked up to them with the car keys twirling around one finger. "Let's go. The last thing we want is to be late."

With that they headed inside. Wanda couldn't help thinking that the heavy doors closed behind them with a decidedly loud bang of finality.

~V102~

"Steve Rogers, correct?" The woman waiting in the front vestibule for the team was decidedly far too perky for this early on a Saturday morning. "And the rest of the New Avengers?"

"That's us." Steve replied.

She smiled extremely brightly. "I'm so glad you're here. The legislature is waiting for you. Follow me, please." They walked down a long marble hallway, her high heels clicking on the slick floor as she punched something into a data pad she cradled in her hand like a mother might hold her child. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or water, perhaps?" Pietro looked like he was about ready to ask for another cup of strong coffee but Wanda gave him a withering look and he remained silent.

There was so much to look at. Wherever Wanda looked there was something new to see-a marble statue, a brightly colored painting on the wall, or a floor to ceiling window that boasted a panorama of the DC skyline. There simply wasn't enough time to take everything in. Occasionally their guide would volunteer information about the landmarks they were passing or ask them questions about how they were liking the District of Columbia but for the most part they marveled in silence. Wanda had never been to any sort of a government building or center before-and she was sure that anything in Sokovia was nothing compared to the grandeur and majesty around her. "Wow." Pietro muttered as he fell in step beside her. "I didn't know they actually made buildings this fancy."

"This is the United States government. Of course it's grandiose." She'd heard this was one of the safest buildings in the entire world-fireproof, waterproof, even bombproof. She supposed this way, if someone were to try and sack the city the government would be safe within their marble walls. In some ways, the whole place felt almost like a prison.

Finally the woman stopped at a pair of tall double doors that opened out into the hallway. "Wait here please. They'll call you in momentarily." Reluctantly the Avengers waited as she slipped inside the room and closed the doors behind her softly; Wanda saw a glimpse of paneled wood before they clicked shut. They must have only been waiting for about five or ten minutes, but Wanda thought it felt like an eternity. No one talked; Rhodey was texting on his phone and it looked like Sam was playing solitaire while the others seemed deeply involved in their own thoughts. Her heart was starting to beat very fast, pudding against her rib cage like a caged animal desperate to escape. She felt incredibly nervous for a reason she couldn't explain.

Suddenly the doors opened again and another woman stood in front of them, wearing the same business as their other guide but missing the friendly smile. "Right this way, please." They were led into an extremely large audience chamber packed with row upon row of chairs like a sports stadium. Every single one of those chairs were filled by a different delegate from a different country. None of them looked particularly happy to see the Avengers. In fact, they looked exactly the opposite.

"Steve Rogers?" someone from the press section asked, pen hovering above her steno pad.

"Present." he replied, seeming to stand up a little straighter-still the picture of truth, justice, and the American way after seventy years in the ice.

She wrote something down on her pad of paper. "Natasha Romanoff?"

"Here." Natasha said, staring expressionlessly at the wall in front of her.

"James Rhodes?" Another mark on the clipboard.

"Present." He stood tall and stock still; years of army training had paid off.

"Sam Wilson?"

"Present."

She paused for a second, looking at the board in front of her almost in confusion. "The…Vision?"

"Present." he replied in his crisp and clear British accent.

"Pietro Maximoff?"

"Present." he replied. He didn't look at all like he'd been about to fall asleep ten minutes earlier, for which she was very proud of him.

Another scribble. "Wanda Maximoff?"

"Present." she said, standing just a little straighter. There were a few minutes of complete silence as everyone waited for the stenographer to finish her notes. Except for a low mutter among the delegates and a communal shifting of chairs, no one talked. Wanda took a moment to let her eyes wander the crowd once more; she was almost but not quite surprised to see Tony Stark sitting in the front row. Finally the stenographer closed her pad with a soft thunk. Almost by some unknown agreement, a new man who seemed to be in charge of proceedings began to speak. "Good. We can begin. I trust you all know why you are here?"

"Yes." Steve replied. "To answer your-and the public's-questions about events that transpired during the Battle of Sokovia."

"Excellent. I regret it was necessary to fly you all out here but it couldn't be helped. The public needs answers about what happened with Ultron-along with certain clarifications about what role the Avengers play in national and international defense and security." The way he said it made an involuntary shiver snake its way down Wanda's spine.

"Our sources have told us that the robot Ultron was supposedly created as a peacekeeping program by Anthony Stark and Bruce Banner using illicit technology that should have been placed in the hands of the United Nations as soon as it was recovered. Is this true?" someone else asked.

Steve and Natasha exchanged a look, though it was Steve who ultimately responded. "Yes, it is." Immediately a murmur of voices broke out throughout the stands; Tony looked like he wanted to disappear. "They experimented without consulting anyone else, though they had only the best intentions in mind. Turning the scepter over the UN was never a condition-"

"So you admit that you were not able to keep control of the actions of your own team?"

Every Avenger bristled a little, though thankfully none of them lost their composure. "That's not true." Natasha replied. "Dr. Banner and Tony knew they were using technology they didn't fully understand. It shouldn't be up to Steve to control everything they do."

"Your conviction is duly noted, Miss Romanoff-and we don't mean to belittle or cast suspicion upon your captain-but we need to understand the events that transpired. Six hundred thousand people were displaced in the attack-and billions more deserve answers. We all know it was just an accident-but the human race came as close as it ever has to the brink of not just a catastrophic loss of life but also complete and total specie annihilation."

"How do we know something like this isn't going to happen again?" someone else asked. "The Avengers saved the world, that much we can't deny-but they wouldn't have needed to save the world in the first place if the government had more control over the situation…"

Suddenly everything snapped into pristine and crystal clear focus for Wanda. A cold seed of dread settled in the pit of her stomach and she reached for Pietro's hand on pure instinct.

"The United Nations had nothing to do with it." Steve replied, keeping his calm admirably. "The Avengers team has always acted independently from any social groups or national governments so we can most effectively protect the world and everyone in it."

"And yet we always end up cleaning your messes. When a rampaging Hulk nearly destroyed an African city, why wasn't Dr. Banner arrested? Why was Tony Stark never prosecuted for building a weapon of mass destruction and almost causing global extinction? We _don't_ hate the Avengers. This is a world of aliens and spies-we definitely need superheroes. But we need more accountability and responsibility. We need control."

"What exactly do you suggest?"

"I'm glad you asked. We'll get that that after you answer a few more questions." His eyes roved over the members of the group, coming to rest on Wanda. "Wanda Maximoff. You came out of nowhere; in fact, the world was convinced you were dead. Where have you been for the last year?"

She bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood-thankfully, Natasha came to her rescue. "Like her brother, she was gravely injured in the Battle of Sokovia and was taken to a private medical facility in England where she could recover." The spy lied perfectly and flawlessly; she sounded extremely convincing.

"Glad you're feeling better." the man replied-but Wanda noticed that his eyes lingered on her for just a second too long as if he, inexplicably, saw right through her lie. He moved on to easier topics and questions-nothing that made her feel particularly compromised. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Good. Now we can begin to discuss options. We're going to offer you a very special offer-one you can't refuse. We'll take responsibility for any and all incidents that may henceforth arise involving the team. Never again will there be any…misunderstandings like what happened in Sokovia. We will handle any problems that may arise for as long as a team may be necessary."

"What's the catch?" Steve asked. With deals like this there was always a catch.

"There _is_ no catch. You would have the freedom to take your Avenging wherever you need to-however, you will answer to the United Nations and its wishes. You will also need to register yourselves as members of the team-though no one will see these documents and your privacy will be completely maintained."

There was a long moment of shared silence; Wanda supposed she should have seen this coming. They were a group of superpowered individuals-of course, the government would want to control them. "And what if we refuse?" Steve asked once a suitable interval had passed.

"It's simple-you would no longer be the Avengers. You would only be able to take your work to designated areas and if something happens that is on par with the disaster of Sokovia you'll be on your own. No one will pay for damages, no one will pay to level calls for arrest. In fact, you won't even be superheroes anymore-you'll be called vigilantes." He handed Steve a thick white book with blue binding. "They're called the Sokovia Accord-and all of you are required to sign them. It's purely a cautionary thing, to repair the public's state of mind."

Tony stood up, smiling brightly. "You guys, this is a _help-_ not a hindrance. The world needs more accountability from its heroes. It needs to know that it can trust us to keep it safe-and registering is a way to make sure that happens."

"You knew about this?" Sam asked.

"Of course. That's why I'm going to set the example." He pulled out a pen (Stark Industries, of course) and signed the document with a flourish. "Your turn, Capsicle."

Steve took the pen, turning it over and over in his hand and looking at the logo emblazoned proudly along its side. There was a long moment of silence; the entire room seemed to be waiting with bated breath to see what was going to happen next. Finally he sighed and closed it with a snap. "Can we take a moment to confer as a team-alone?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need." They were shown to a small green room off the side of the main chamber.

James sighed, rubbing his forehead as he sank into a leather chair on the other side of the room. "Shit."

"So what do we do?" Sam asked. "Do we sign it?" No one was exactly happy about the idea of signing over the team into the hands of the UN…but it wasn't like they could say no.

"It doesn't seem like we have much of a choice if we want to stay Avengers." Natasha replied. "Besides…maybe it's not such a bad thing after all. There would be a lot we didn't have to worry about regarding illegal proceedings."

Steve shook his head. "The Avengers have never worked for any sort of government. We work for the good of the common people-and governments can become corrupt. If we sign over the team, we might one day find ourselves fighting for something a little more politically minded. I...can't sign it."

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room with a vacuum. "What?" Natasha asked sharply.

"I said I'm not going to sign. I-we-fought too hard for freedom and justice to see it all go to waste. I'm not going to tell any of you what to do or what to believe but I will not register." He glanced over at Wanda, looking as confident as she'd ever seen him.

Sam stood up a little straighter. "Then I won't either. The team needs to stay together."

"I won't sign." Wanda added. Pietro nodded automatically.

Natasha sighed. "A show of defiance isn't going to work. I don't like it any more than you do, but they're the _United Nations_. If we don't sign the Accords, they'll make our lives a living hell."

"Then we'll resist." Steve replied. "We'll show them that the Avengers aren't so easily pushed around." They stared each other down, no one willing to give even an inch.

Finally Natasha shook her head almost ruefully. "Fine. No one's going to sign." Rhodey seemed a bit uneasy at the idea but Vision nodded stoically. "You're right. We're not Avengers if we don't stay together-and we can't compromise our core values. Now, let's go back out there and piss off a lot of government officials."

 **As you can see, we're finally getting into the Civil War part of the story. I've been hearing conflicting stories about how the Accords will be used in the movie so I tried to combine the different theories I've heard.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	15. Sightseeing

Needless to say, the proposal did not go over well. No threats were explicitly exchanged, but Pietro knew the UN delegates weren't happy. Then again, he didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't even a US citizen. "Take a couple of weeks to sleep on it." the man who had explained the Accords said to them with a shiny smile. "I sincerely hope you'll come to your senses." They were shown out without any pomp or circumstance and left to their own devices.

"Well, that went well." Rhodey muttered. "I think we just pissed off the entire UN."

"It'll blow over soon enough." Steve replied tiredly. "Until then, I suggest we keep a low profile." They'd decided to regroup outside the Air and Space Museum, which had just opened for the day. "So, let's decide how we're going to spend our last day here."

"Air and Space." Sam and Rhodey said almost simultaneously, high fiving each other at the back of the group.

"I thought the American History Museum sounded very interesting and educational." Vision replied.

"I'm just not going to offer an opinion." Natasha said.

"I would like to see the National Gallery myself." Wanda added.

Pietro felt torn. On the one hand he really wanted to see the Air and Space Museum…but on the other hand he also wanted to spend plenty of time with his sister. Of course, there were also times he had to think about himself. "I vote for Air and Space." He went to join Sam and Rhodey.

"Okay-I think we've made this easy for ourselves." Steve said once everyone else had found a group. "Rhodey, Sam, and Pietro will head to the Air and Space Museum. I've been to the American History museum more than enough times so Nat can take Vision there. Wanda and I will go to the National Gallery. I've made reservations at a restaurant for 7:30; we'll meet there." Everyone seemed satisfied by these arrangements so off they went.

"You're going to love the Air and Space." Rhodey said as they got in line to join all of the tourists and school groups filing into the museum's front doors. "It has all kinds of cool airplanes." He was still chattering nonstop once they got inside…and Pietro's jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Wherever he looked there was something to see-airplanes decades old hung from the ceiling in brought colors and loud beeps, whistles, and roars of motors gave the place an atmosphere of excitement.

Suddenly, an exhibit tucked in one corner of the room caught his eye-right next to a showcase of American planes of WWII. _Inside Captain America,_ the title proclaimed in broad lettering. _The True Story of America's First Super Soldier and Homeland Hero. Now in its last week!_ "What's that?"

Sam followed his line of sight and immediately made a beeline for the exhibit in question. "Oh yeah-Steve's exhibit. Come on-let's check it out." Before Pietro could stop him he was already halfway across the floor. He and Rhodey really had no other choice but to follow.

 _You're in Brooklyn, New York, in the year 1942. The United States has recently entered World War II. Morale is high but more soldiers are needed to go to Europe and the Pacific and fight the good fight. To inspire the American populace the government approves production of a serum designed to make even the unlikeliest of men into a trained and capable soldier of the Allied forces. Enter Steven Rogers: small for his age, underweight, and ill with numerous health problems. Even so, he's already applied for the army and several separate bases-and has been turned down every time. Even so he isn't willing to give up and willingly submits himself to be the world's first recipient of the super soldier serum._

They wound their way through the exhibit carefully, passing pictures of old training facilities and all kinds of photos of Steve-Steve with the Howling Commandos, in his old uniform, and with a brown haired woman Pietro could only assume was Peggy Carter. Old propaganda posters stared out at him, proclaiming in bold letters _Captain America wants YOU to join the US army._

Rhodey pulled them into another alcove where a movie was playing on loop. A soldier had been interviewed; in small print under his name it read that he had been a soldier liberated during one of Captain America's raids on a German base. "He was an inspiration to us all. You felt better…safer, even…when he was around. He really was a symbol-to all of us-of not only just what it meant to be a soldier and a comrade in arms but also an American in general. I owe my life and freedom to Captain America and I know I'm not the only one."

Pietro couldn't help remembering a day in Seoul, Korea, when Captain America had given him the benefit of the doubt. He could have had them arrested and shipped to the US in chains-but he hadn't. He'd given them an opportunity not just to shape up but to be heroes. He supposed they weren't really so different; the three of them had been experimented on in an attempt to protect their country (at least, that was what he'd thought he'd been signing up for). The difference was that Captain America had become not only a symbol but a hero; he and Wanda would never so much as be mentioned in a history book. Not as heroes of Sokovia, anyway. As Avengers…that was a different story. All because of Steve.

The next part of the exhibit focused on a different person in the Captain's life-James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky. _Best friends since childhood._ Sam sighed as they looked at a picture of a young Steve and Bucky playing stickball in the Brooklyn streets circa 1930. "I still can't believe I lost the trail."

"Don't worry." Rhodey said reassuringly. "We'll find him again. He can't stay hidden forever."

"What are you talking about?" Pietro asked, sure he was missing something.

The two older Avengers exchanged a look. "Never mind." Sam said after a while. Pietro nodded because he felt it was best not to pry-not because he particularly liked being left out of whatever the big secret was.

The whole exhibit was at odds with everything he'd learned as a child about World War II, where Captain America had been a symbol that led men to throw their lives away by the thousands. But now, with everything he'd learned about not only Steve but also what it really meant to be a superhero he was beginning to realize that those deaths had been anything but meaningless.

He left the exhibit feeling almost enlightened-and realizing just how much Steve had kept hidden from the team. But…maybe that was alright. Maybe Steve had never really been the bad guy after all.

It seemed Rhodey and Sam felt the same way; they stood in silence for a few minutes once they finished looking around as though paying tribute to all of the Captain's fallen comrades. Rhodey was the first to shake himself out of it and say "Let's go see some airplanes!"

So, with nothing better to do, everyone agreed.

~V102~

"It's beautiful." Little pink and white water lilies floated across the crystal clear surface of a lake while a blue wooden bridge arched overhead. The painting looked so real; Wanda could almost imagine reaching out to touch it and getting her fingers wet instead.

"Water Lilies." Steve said, reading off the plaque to the right of the painting. "Monet. I know what you mean."

She admired the way the brush strokes had been used to indicate depth and movement on a still canvas; she would give almost anything to have the skills to paint something even half as beautiful. "I love Impressionist works. There was an exhibition of their work in Moscow when I was nine; my parents spent all of their Christmas bonuses just so we could go. I wasn't really an artist then but my mother was. She said we would always regret it if we didn't go. And when we saw all of those beautiful paintings…I realized how right she really was."

"Are you a painter?"

Wanda shook her head. "Paints and brushes were too expensive. I draw, mostly. Sketchbooks are cheap. But…that exhibition is what got me into art. I thought that if people could make things that beautiful-things that people would pay good money just to come and see-there was no reason why I couldn't try too." She realized how close she was getting toward talking about things she'd never talked about with anyone else and moved on to the next room, full of Renoirs, to provide a distraction.

Steve nodded. "I've never been creatively inclined myself, but it's always nice to dream."

"You can't be _that_ bad."

He laughed. "You'd be surprised. You wouldn't be saying that if you'd seen some of the self-portraits I drew in high school."

"Now I actually want to see them. Do you still have those pictures?"

"…Maybe."

"Will you show me?"

He gave her an almost teasing smile. "It depends. Will you show me one of your drawings? We can compare ideas."

"Mine are really nothing special."

"I'm sure they're better than mine."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking about that proposition. She wasn't excited to show him her drawings-they weren't masterpieces by any stretch of the word-but she _was_ interested in seeing Steve's terrible self-portraits. "Maybe. We'll see. Do you think the UN is going to follow up on their threats?"

"I don't know-but I assume things are about to get much worse for us." Then again, that was nothing new. They continued on to the next room, which seemed to specialize in modern art.

"You didn't have to come with me, you know. I could just as easily have come myself."

"It was no trouble. I've never actually been to the National Gallery myself before; it's a new experience for both of us. Besides, I think Sam, Rhodey, and Pietro need a bonding day; it seems they'll get along very well." Wanda certainly hoped so. It had been too long since he'd had a real friend. It gave her more pleasure than it should have to be able to say that; by bits and turns, she'd remembered more and more until she had an almost complete picture of her life-but there were still blank spots. She could not, for example, remember anything about the Battle of Sokovia or where she'd been for the last year. That was the worst of all-with every day that went by she was more and more certain that it had something to do with the cartel. There was something strange about it all but she couldn't quite lay a finger on it.

"Yes, I think they do." They continued on, passing Renoirs, Monets, Manets, and Van Goghs-pieces of artwork that Wanda had only ever seen among the pages of books. By the time they were finished the sky had just barely started to turn pink, as if the sun was just beginning to contemplate whether or not to set for the night. No one else was finished yet and Steve didn't want to leave for their reservations too early.

"We still have almost an hour." he said, checking his iPhone. "Do you want to walk on the Mall for a while?"

"Sure." she replied, for lack of anything better to do.

They started at the Washington Monument and walked along the Reflecting Pool, passing monuments dedicated to the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and World War II. Steve was extremely quiet when they arrived at the latter, for good reason. "They call it the Greatest Generation for a reason." she added. She was Jewish on her father's side; she'd grown up hearing about how her grandparents had been persecuted by the Nazis and spent two years in a forced labor camp. If the Allies hadn't won the war, there was a very good chance she wouldn't be alive.

"It was a very different time-but I can't say the modern world isn't better in some ways. The quality of life is light years above what it once was."

"In some parts of the world yes-but in other parts it feels like we're still stuck in the Stone Age." Sokovia hadn't been terribly technologically advanced; her parents had bought an iPad for the family back when money hadn't been so scarce and it had lasted up until the shelling. "I still find it hard to believe that in some parts of the world people have more than they could possibly want and half a world away people have next to nothing."

"We're working on it. We're trying to change, really."

She nodded-but change felt like it was very slow in coming. Almost dangerously so. "Are we still Avengers?"

He shrugged almost helplessly, looking across the water at the white dome of the Jefferson Memorial glittering in the low dusk light. "Until they tell us that we aren't. I wish I knew for sure what will happen next, but I do know that we're going to keep doing what we've always done-saving people and protecting the world from danger-no matter what the United Nations says." It was a dangerous prospect in this day and time, but the intent still rang true.

~V102~

Dinner that night with Tony Stark almost felt hostile. While no anger was openly displayed, Pietro didn't need telepathic powers to sense the resentment growing just underneath the surface. "How as your day?" Tony asked, ordering a bottle of white wine at tableside. "Do a lot of sightseeing?" His usually genial manner seemed more than a little forced.

"Some." Steve replied coolly. "We're heading back to the base later tonight."

"I wouldn't get too comfy."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of a threat?"

"Of course not. I'm just saying that you've made a few very powerful enemies."

"Is that a surprise?"

Pietro was too busy examining the tiny little model spacecraft Rhodey had bought for him at the museum's gift shop (quite against his will) to pay much attention. It was modelled after the Apollo 13, with little doors that opened and shut and a little button you could press that would make the whole thing light up and make strange noises. He'd told Rhodey half a dozen time he didn't need it but his new friend had insisted-because apparently one didn't go to the Smithsonian and not come back without some kind of souvenir.

Rhodey sighed. "I don't know, Steve. It might be nice to have government protection. If something like Sokovia ever happened again, we won't have so much bad press. It could be helpful." Tony high fived him and gave Steve an almost triumphant look.

"It would simply cause more problems than it would fix. For now all they want is to control the team-but what if they started getting other ideas and decided we could offer them more? Pietro and I are Enhanced-what if the UN wanted to find out exactly what made us that way?" She shivered and Pietro rested a hand on her knee reassuringly underneath the table. Steve nodded once as if in silent thanks.

All Pietro could think was that shots had most certainly been fired.

They finished the meal in a very awkward silence. Pietro couldn't stop thinking about what Wanda had suggested. Though he knew it was purely hypothetical and would almost certainly stay that way…he still had nightmares about being in a cell separated from his sister. He couldn't let that happen. If that meant being on Steve's 'team', that's what he would do.

~V102~

They flew out late that night. Even with the lingering hostility that hadn't quite gone away. Tony and a couple members of his entourage came to see them off, but Pietro suspected that was just formality.

"I don't like this." Sam muttered, watching as Tony grew smaller and smaller out the window of the plane.

Pietro nodded. "Neither do I." He knew something big was coming-but he didn't know what it was. He just knew he had to figure it out soon, before it was too late.

 **Sorry for any inaccuracies in the Captain America story-it's been a really long time since I've seen** ** _The First Avenger._**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	16. The Last Straw

**Hey guys! Sorry about the wait.**

 **This really marks the beginning of the second part of the story and has a lot to do with the events of** ** _Civil War_** **. I've been trying to take everything I can from the trailers and plot summaries they've released. I suppose I should say that there may be speculation/possible spoilers for the new movie.**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**

 **Enjoy!**

Back at the Avengers base, things went back to normal. Even with the threat of an international takeover hanging over their heads, the New Avengers still trained for hours a day to make sure they were up to scratch to handle whatever challenges the world could throw at them. As it turned out, it wasn't long before their mettle was tested yet again.

"Look alive." Natasha said, practically throwing Pietro a gun. "Radar has picked up armed hostiles outside the Center for Infectious Diseases. We're going to go make sure things don't escalate any further."

Pietro sighed. This was the first iota of free time he'd had all day. "Really? Right now?"

"A true Avenger never sleeps."

Rolling his eyes he stood up and followed her to the briefing room on board the Quinjet-where Steve was crouched over a small map of a city. Little red dots were clustered around a building in the center of the map, which he indicated carefully. "This is the Center for Infectious Diseases. It houses most of the deadliest bacteria and viruses known to man-the black plague, tuberculosis, and most recently ebola. They're supposed to be using inactive parts of the viruses to find cures but the diseases themselves are still incredibly volatile. If these hostiles were to get a hand on its contents…"

Pietro filled in the blanks. Widespread infection, on a global scale. Not good.

"Does SHIELD know?" Rhodey asked automatically.

"They haven't officially requested the assistance of the Avengers, but we don't have time to wait for an official appeal. Innocent civilians." Pietro know that would be enough for Steve-he was all about rescuing civilians, no matter what the cause.

"Why don't we just wait? If we head out right now…you know we could be walking right into more legal trouble."

Steve shrugged. "So be it." And that was that. They were a team and Steve was their leader. In situations like this, his word was law-and right now, he was telling them they were about to go into battle.

~A~

A flight to Nigeria was no quick thing-but with the aid of a Quinjet it was less of a hassle than it had to be. When the jet's wheels touched down on the outskirts of Berlin the situation was still ongoing; the police directed them to the city center, where a large building made out of smooth grey concrete towered into the sky. Apparently, there were sixty hostages now-men, women, and children. About twenty or thirty men with black masks, according to Wanda's count, stood surrounding the Institute with guns raised while more men were inside the building itself, trading fire with local policemen. A man with white stripes painted across his chest stood facing them; even with a mask she got the disquieting feeling he was smiling right at them. "Steve Rogers. I was wondering when you would get there."

"No one has to get hurt." Steve replied calmly. "Just walk away from this."

"I don't think so. This is just too good an opportunity for me to pass up." His eyes flicked over the team almost lazily. " _This_ is your new task force? Honestly, I'd expected more."

For a while they stood in a silent stalemate, no one rising to the bait. The Avengers looked to Steve, waiting for their signal to attack, while Crossbones's men looked to him. Wanda saw the punch coming a second before it made contact-and so did Steve, ducking just in time to avoid a nasty blow to the side of the head. This blatant indication of battle was enough to spur the rest of the team into action-while, Steve, Sam, Rhodey, and Vision engaged forces stationed outside Natasha, Pietro, and Wanda went into the Institute itself.

It was mayhem-people were running everywhere, bullets zinged through the air at random, and alarms were blaring while prerecorded voices repeated instructions for a net and orderly evacuation in three different languages. "Split up." Natasha said, making sure her comm. piece was turned on; out of habit Wanda checked hers as well. "But stay close. Shoot to injure, not to kill-and if you run into trouble, be sure to let me know." With that she seemed to melt into the shadows like a cat and Wanda followed soon afterwards.

She noticed someone in black trying to sneak up on her and sent a tendril of red lancing through his skull. He shuddered once and fell to the ground like deadweight, still panting heavily. She looked at him with no pity; he wouldn't be harmed, but he would be having nightmares for at least the next couple of weeks. "Where are the hostages?" she muttered as she dispatched another trio of soldiers.

"Third floor-there's a door at the end of the hall." Natasha's voice replied. "It's heavily guarded; I'm going to see if I can draw them out. On my signal, get in there and rescue them."

"How many?" Pietro asked.

"Sixty three-men, women, and children. They look like civilians; I assume they were brought in from outside."

"Don't worry. We'll get them out." In a flash he was by Wanda's side again, knocking out six or seven militants in the process. "Are you alright?" he asked her with an appraising once over for any outward signs of injury.

"I'm fine." she responded. I haven't had time to fight yet."

There was a loud rattle from upstairs and Pietro tensed on his feet like a panther ready to spring. "It looks like you're about to get your chance."

They ran to the next level, not stopping until they reached the last door on the right. Two men were guarding the doors-Pietro took one and Wanda took the other. They were alone in the hallway within seconds, only to find they still had the heavy door of what looked like some kind of vault to deal with. Luckily Wanda managed to unlock it losing telekinesis and they stepped inside.

The room where the hostages were being kept seemed to be abandoned. Its sides were lined with shelves, which in turn were lined with lock boxes full of substances she could barely imagine. Rows of people knelt on the floor, hands above their heads. The youngest seemed to be a five year old girl, crying pitifully as she glanced up at the new arrivals-and the other two militants who stood at the front of the room with their guns cocked. "Stop!" one of them cried, drawing a gun and nudging it into the side of the girl's head. "Stop right there or I'll shoot!" The little girl began to cry uncontrollably, her small body convulsing with sobs. Wanda felt her fingers begin to heat up in anger. No child should have to be held at gunpoint. But he got the message across-the twins stopped in their tracks.

"Good." the other man said. It didn't take mind powers for Wanda to realize they were more scared of the Avengers than they were willing to admit. "Now, we're just going to stay here until reinforcements come-" He droned on while Wanda focused on the gun in his hand. Ever so slightly she began to pull it towards her-and by the time he realized what was going on it was too late. "Shit!" he cried as she gun flew out of his hand and straight into hers. Her hand closed around the barrel coldly and she quickly switched the safety to the 'on' position. Immediately, the other guard threw his gun to the ground and put his hands up.

"Now we make the demands." she replied. "And here they are: you're going to come with us and you're not going to make any trouble. If you so much as _think_ about towing the line I'll make you say your worst nightmares." Not surprisingly, no one but up a fight and she and Pietro were able to ferry the hostages out with no problems. "All hostages are secure." she said into her comm. link. "Awaiting further instructions."

"Good work." Steve's voice replied. "Bring them out front. We just about have everything locked down."

"Follow us." Pietro said, repeating his instructions in a couple of languages to be sure he was getting the point across to the crowd of people watching them in a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "We'll help you get to safety." A low murmur began to spread through the crowd; a few people seemed to be saying prayers of thanksgiving and a few others even hugged the twins and called down the blessings of God upon them. The little girl slipped her hand into Wanda's and didn't let go as they wound their way down the hallways of the Institute and out into the late afternoon sunlight.

Almost as soon as they stepped out the front door, a line of bullets flew past Wanda's head and embedded themselves in the wall behind her; by some stroke of luck she was still alive. Sam landed in front of the small group almost instantly, deflecting most of the bullets with his mechanical wings. "I thought Steve said we were clear." Pietro muttered in exasperation.

"We are _not_ clear." Sam replied. "We are very, _very_ not clear. Nat, can you-"

"Already on it." She ran up to them and began to lead the civilians around to the back of the building, where police trucks waited to carry them to safety. "Pietro, I need you come with me and make sure we're safe."

"But-" He glanced back at Wanda almost helplessly.

"Go on." she replied, turning back to the fight itself. "I can handle myself." She didn't wait to see if he was leaving; she had to focus on the fight at hand and plot a suitable course of action. The police were doing a good job of keeping pedestrians back so the 'war zone' was clear of citizens-only militants and superheroes remained to fight. Sam and Vision circled overhead-the Mind Gem in the center of Vision's forehead glowed yellow every so often as he shot a ray of light-while Rhodey and Steve worked ground assault. There were still about fifteen militants left fighting, their numbers having been greatly diminished-but Crossbones was nowhere to be found. "Where do you need me?" she asked, running up to Steve and Rhodey.

"We just need to get the last of them subdued." Steve replied. "Help wherever you can." She nodded, eyes scanning the ranks of soldiers to see where she could be of service. As it happened, a couple of soldiers with extremely large pistols were trying to sneak up on them both and she took care of them before they could come any closer. "Thanks."

"No problem." she replied easily.

For the next ten or fifteen minutes they picked off the militants calmly and methodically. While Crossbones's forces may have been trained in what they did, they were simply no match for trained members of the Avengers team. Soon, Steve was polishing off the last of the soldiers and Wanda was allowing herself a chance to relax for the first time since the whole ordeal had started.

"I'd say this calls for a celebration." Rhodey said cockily, landing next to her as the last couple of militants were apprehended. "Who's up for prime rib?"

Steve was just replying that prime rib sounded delicious when Crossbones reappeared. He was coming from a distance away, walking slowly-so Wanda didn't see the suicide vest he was wearing until it was almost too late.

He was walking straight toward a group of children, who stood watching in wide eyed terror.

Time seemed to slow down and lengthen out; Steve shouted at her to levitate him and she complied instantly. She watched with an almost calm detachment as Crossbones floated six, seven, and then eight feet in the air; someone was talking in the background, but she couldn't listen. All that mattered was the person in front of her-and how imperative it was that she not lose focus.

The shock came out of nowhere, hitting the back of her leg with a stinging pain that made her cry out. Steve turned toward her, but it was too late-her leg buckled traitorously underneath her and she lost control of the prisoner. He went flying-straight into a high rise apartment building. There was a minute of complete and total silence as everyone watched in horror; she was cold all over with dread as she realized just what she had done, inadvertently or otherwise.

Then the building exploded, debris flying out for yards in every direction. There were numerous screams as people were burned by flaming brick or cut by flying glass but Wanda barely heard them; she was too busy watching the heavy building of steel and glass crumble like a sheet of paper crushed in a giant's fist-and all the people dying inside.

Steve grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the explosion and shielding her with his body at the same time. "Come on!" he yelled, shouting to be heard over the din. "We have to get out of here!" She followed him numbly, wondering faintly how she was still standing.

Steve didn't stop running until they were a safe distance away-at which point she stopped short and looked her over appraisingly for injuries. "Are you alright?" She barely managed to nod; she was shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the aftereffects of the Taser shock. Of course he saw right through her and embraced her tightly. "This isn't your fault. What happened back there had nothing to do with you-absolutely nothing."

"If I'd just been paying attention-"

"This isn't on you, I promise. No one can blame you; everyone saw that it was an accident-"

It didn't matter. People had still died.

Just then the other members of the team found them. "What happened?" Natasha cried. "Where did that explosion come from?" Wanda felt every pair of eyes on her but she purposefully avoided all of their judgmental looks. Of course if they thought there was a screw up they would automatically turn to her.

A squadron of police ran up to them-and they didn't look happy. "Eyewitnesses saw her lose control of the prisoner," the squad leader said in heavily accented English, gesturing to Wanda with a nod of his head. "We'll need to take her into the station and have her answer a few questions."

She felt Steve's hand on her shoulder, strong and protective. "If any of your witnesses are half as reliable as they say they are, they'll remember that she was doing just fine until someone tased her in the back of the leg."

"I'm afraid we'll have to step in here." Another group of people dressed in black outfits with the SHIELD eagle emblazoned on their shoulders joined them. "Miss Maximoff, follow us please." the leader said quietly-a woman with piercing green eyes and steely white hair. She let no room for question or argument and Wanda didn't see what she could do besides follow them with a cold terror in the pit of her stomach. She _did_ notice how the agents fanned out to surround her with guns cocked, like they thought she was dangerous-or a monster.

Pietro looked like he wanted to protest-and he wasn't the only one. "We'll come too." Sam said.

"That won't be necessary, believe me. You will all be subjected to individual questioning." the agent continued. "You will be expected to wait in the vicinity until we call you."

"I'm coming now." Steve replied coldly. "Wanda Maximoff is a member of my team and I want to testify about this afternoon's events."

He stared down the head agent, neither one willing to give even half an inch. Wanda suspected they could have kept the grudge match going for at least another twenty minutes if the agent hadn't given in first-probably in the interests of time. "Fine. Let's go." She pointed up the street and they fell in step beside her. Wanda glanced back at the team one last time, hoping for a last reassuring glance from Pietro.

Unfortunately, he looked just as worried as she did.

~A~

Once they reached the aircraft the agent (she had told the two Avengers they could call her Lane but nothing else) said would be flying them back to the United States, Wanda was directed to a room that was little more than a glorified holding cell. Steve was offered a place in the captain's cabin but declined, preferring to sit with her instead. "Don't worry." he said, guessing rightly that she was nearly making herself sick with dread about how this was all going to turn out. "Everyone saw what happened. They know it was an accident. They know it's not my fault."

"It's a little hard not worrying when they literally pulled me aside for individual questioning." she replied. She kept turning the events of the last hour over and over in her head, as if by thinking hard enough she could find a solution and save all of the people she'd killed. "How many?"

"There's not a definite number, but more than ten. Most of them civilians. Rescue efforts are ongoing."

"Oh my God." She'd never had a panic attack before but she felt very certain she was about to have one now-or at least, she was teetering on the brink. "Where's Crossbones?"

"They haven't found a body, but it's likely he was blown to pieces."

She shook her head, playing with a little ball of magic for a lack of anything better to do. "Maybe they do have a right to lock me up."

He sighed. "No one is going to be locking anyone up. This is just something routine we have to do after a mission gone wrong. You aren't in any trouble." And yet he knew, sickeningly, that he was lying. The government was out for blood-and he couldn't say he wasn't worried they had just found a scapegoat in Wanda. "Everything will be just fine." He reached out to touch her hand softly; it was shaking like a leaf in a gale force hurricane.

Meanwhile, Wanda wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself.

 **So this is based off a rumor I heard a while back about something like this happening at the beginning of the movie and triggering the Sokovia Accords. I don't know if it's actually true or anything but I found a way to work it into the story.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


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